Murphy’s First Law
by Fandomatic
Summary: McKay’s bad day is multiplying under Murphy’s First Law. Can McKay stop the new stargate from hiccuping and cranking out another McKay every 38 minutes? Or is he too tickled with his growing numbers to realize it's dooming the expedition?
1. Law of Probability

AN: Updated Jan 2012. I didn't change too much — still irreverent as ever.

**Synopsis:** McKay's bad day is multiplying. Can McKay stop the new stargate from hiccupping and cranking out another McKay every 38 minutes? Or is he too tickled with his growing numbers to realize it's dooming the expedition?

**Genres: **General Fiction (no ships); SciFi/Comic Tragedy  
**Rating:** T for language**  
Setting:** Events occur during Season 5 after _The Lost Tribe, _the epi that they blow up the control tower_.  
_**Disclaimer:** Contains recycled material.

•

**Murphy's First Law:** "All things work toward decay."  
by Fandomatic

•

* * *

**Murphy's Law of Probability:**  
_"Whatever hits the fan will not be evenly distributed."_

* * *

Thud. SQUISH! Thud. SQUISH!

Miserable, Rodney shot a glare at Sheppard's smug face and felt the slime ooze in his left boot. He lifted his chin and headed into the event horizon.

As soon as Dr. Rodney McKay stepped through the Atlantis gate and his feet hit hallowed ground, he wanted nothing more than to find a more receptive target for his frustration.

He could envision the sight he made for the amused gate room with his blue paint covering his exposed skin. The blue shade just couldn't be a normal blue that faded into the background. No, this blue was a bright vivid color that coated his face all the way down to his neckline and all the way up to his armpits. The blue almost matched the color of his shirt, which just made it that much worse since the effect carried over to his chest under the tac vest.

His knuckles flexed around his ceremonial stick and a thought flittered at the edges of his mind that it would make a good bludgeoning tool for anyone that dared to cross his path. It was heavy, black, and carved from a solid branch with a wicked-looking bulbous tip.

McKay's second step into the staging area brought out a resounding squelch as his muddied boot protested its abuse. A deathly silence settled over the room.

Clomp. SQUISH! Clomp. SQUISH!

The astrophysicist halted and his jaw worked as he glanced around the spotless embarkation room and his nostrils flared. Spotless except for the muddied boot print he left behind him. The new stargate sat pristine in the center of a completely repaired gate room and he couldn't see any evidence of the explosion left. That possibly made him madder.

It was proof he hadn't been needed.

Behind him, the gate discharged the rest of team Sheppard, immaculate as the day they left Atlantis. A titter traveled up to the control room as technicians, without anything better to occupy them, drifted to the rail for a peek at their painted leader. For anyone else, it would have been the final humiliating nail in the coffin.

Bent on damage control, Woolsey hurried down the central stairs clutching his precious computer tablet. "How were the Gerratians?"

"Geriatric," he heard Sheppard snort behind him.

"Oh, please! You'd need valium to liven them up," Rodney instantly derided.

"What, no room for enlightenment, McKay?" the big Satedan gorilla grinned and thumped McKay's blue noggin.

"I wouldn't exactly call a monastery of moaning monks an epiphany!" McKay tried to drop his pack, but the straps caught on the tac vest and he ended up fumbling over them because of the stupid black stick he'd been forced to accept. "You don't need more than two seconds to see the entire show. Moan, groan, sway to the left. Moan, groan, sway to the right. I didn't have to sit there for days! I have important projects I could have been doing here, like rebuilding the control room from that nasty explosion, and I put them all on hold for the moaning monk initiation! And for what? Next to nothing. That's what!" He waved the carved scepter at them in disgust and Woolsey backed up a step looking to Sheppard for protection.

The colonel just shrugged and unclipped his own pack.

Teyla took pity on Woolsey. "The Gerratians graciously allowed Dr. McKay into the inner sanctum when they confirmed his ancestral gene. Their invitation for Atlantis to return remains intact. Dr. McKay was very … accommodating."

"Ha. Inner sanctum is what it's not!" McKay snarled. "They have a paltry garbage collection of broken ancient gizmos, doodads and _crappy_ ceremonial sticks." He thrust out the price of his soul as evidence that Woolsey had sent him on a wild goose chase.

"It didn't blow his skirt up," Sheppard summed it up cheerily.

McKay shot him a murderous glare.

"Nothing there to blow up," Ronon added.

McKay fumed and considered shooting Conan murderous glare number two. He was fairly certain that comment had been aimed at him and not the quality of the monks' collection. But he wasn't ready to challenge that theory yet.

John crossed his hands over the butt of the P90 and gloated over his cranky scientist. "The reports of ancient technology fell a bit short. But the Gerratians had quite a lovely three-day ceremony planned for Rodney. And … they gave him a stick."

Rodney felt the flush rising under his paint and he gripped the implement in question just a little tighter. He grumbled under his breath, "Utter waste of valuable resources. You'd think everyone was struck by the 'Stupid' Fairy—"

"Mr. Woolsey!" Amelia Banks interrupted his churning thoughts of verbal revenge. The gate room grew quiet as she continued, "We can't shut down the gate!"

"What?" McKay's surprised blue face echoed the hue of the glowing blue event horizon behind them. The 'Stupid' Fairy must have been hyperactive if they couldn't even do that without him.

As he hurried up to the control room with his ruined condition forgotten, he heard Sheppard ask if they had a shield yet. When Woolsey responded that the installation was scheduled for tomorrow because it had something to do with system dependency, Rodney rolled his eyes. It had nothing to do with dependency and everything to do with the control panel that had to be cannibalized from auxiliary control with some assembly required. The Lord Protector didn't have a gate with a shield in their tower. They had a space gate.

McKay gazed around at the cobbled together brand new control consoles with burn scars still evident over the floor surfaces and walls around them. It hit him how vulnerable Atlantis really was. He should have never let Woolsey talk him into taking an inventory of the moronic monk hoard.

Of course at the time, he didn't know the monks had zilch, as in _Zilch_-PM. Everyone should be grateful for the depths he was willing to sink — nay, _rise — _to bring home a fully charged zero-point module.

The gate room below had more or less been repaired. Most of that was paint and glass installation with a little gate harvesting on the side. But the control room was the heart of the city. McKay had made remarkable repairs in the short amount of time that had passed. Quite a few of the control platforms had been lifted straight from the Lord Protector's tower. At the sight of the new consoles in place, Rodney had to admit his little minions had been busy finishing up his rebuilding project.

But they couldn't finish it without him. Dr. McKay's tension radiated from his shoulders as he hurried up to the DHD and pushed the reset button.

"I tried that a dozen times already, Dr. McKay." Amelia Banks gestured toward the active gate pointedly.

"Hmm," McKay frowned at the event horizon and turned to Chuck, not bothering to respond to her quaint little observation. The ATA gene had made no difference. "Did you bring up DHD diagnostics, yet?"

"It's running. Nothing yet."

"Well, tell me when it's done. And start a secondary diagnostics on the primary conduits, the gate protocols, and primary commands." McKay had already pulled off the panel and crawled under the console. An "Mmm" and grunt suspiciously reminiscent of the monk ceremony wafted up to them.

"Well, what's wrong with it?" Richard Woolsey prompted impatiently.

"Even _I_, a genius, and veritable giant of galactic knowledge," Rodney's muffled voice grew clearer as his blue face popped out to glare pointedly at the balding Atlantis commander, "need more than a few seconds to diagnose a problem that probably cropped up due to my extended absence to partake in a pointless and, dare I say, primitive ritual that left me painted up like a tart on estrogen! Clearly the ignorant monkeys were in charge of gate installation when—"

"Rodney." McKay's blue face with the red undertone took one look at Sheppard's flat expression and he clamped his mouth shut. "Take your time. It's not like the gate's gonna explode again…, is it?"

"Oh." Rodney glanced up between Woolsey's anxious face and Sheppard's and rolled his eyes. Yes, he was surrounded by idiots. "No! Look, there's no radiation bombarding the stargate. The alarms would've gone off. It's not as bad as it looks. It'll automatically cut off in thirty-eight minutes anyway. Meanwhile, it's not like the Geriatrics and their atrophied muscles are going to invade Atlantis while I chase down the anomaly in the new systems." He knew what Sheppard was worried about.

John met Woolsey's eyes and assured, "I'll double the guards."

Richard cleared his throat. "Protocol states…"

John planted his hands on his hips and Rodney's smile cracked the drying paint on his face. Sheppard hated that word.

"Right…" Woolsey sighed and lifted the tablet. "Keep me posted." He retreated toward his office with a stiffened spine and Rodney scooted happily under the console again. Sheppard had bought him time away from the post-mission checkup and he was going to use it.

As he looked for obvious red flags, he waggled his blue fingers at the computer tablet Amelia held. "Hey you, er, pony-tail, get me one of those…" He grabbed the tablet from her hands and continued as he pulled up the interface program. "Get Zelenka up here and get me a diagnostic kit, coffee, plus a couple of wet towels, and go fetch my shoes and socks — in that order, thank you."

•

Twenty minutes later, McKay managed to wipe most of the blue paint from his face, arms and hands, changed into tennis shoes, and dug out his Atlantis jacket from his pack. Meanwhile, he delegated all but the most critical tasks to everyone under him. Dr. Zelenka took his place under the DHD with a diagnostic kit and the ancient diagnostic program had finally come up with something for him to digest.

Instantly, the information caused more questions than answers to crop up. But it was too late. Pony-tail had already notified Woolsey they had something. The Atlantis commander and Sheppard started toward his control station.

McKay picked up his cooling coffee and sipped it as his brain took off in four directions at top speed and came up with stall, more hot coffee, oh crap, and how much time do we have left?

"Well?" Richard prompted as he approached McKay at the center console. "What's wrong with it?"

Rodney straightened from his computer screen and pointedly looked at his watch. "It's been exactly twenty-two minutes. I recommend we disengage the ZedPM and don't dial the gate until I fix this."

"What? Why?"

"First of all, there was an unexplained energy spike when we first gated in." McKay set down the cup and crossed his arms. "And when I say energy spike, I mean _massive_ energy spike channeled directly from the ZedPM. We're lucky we're still here." His eyes shot to Zelenka's feet. "It happened on our end of the gate, so I think it's definitely a problem generating from the new gate and consoles which leads me to believe we're employing a bunch of grease monkeys that don't have any idea what end of the—"

"McKay."

Zelenka's indignant voice rose from under the console. "There is _nothing_ wrong with installation!"

"If there was _nothing_ wrong, then why did the gate draw an excessive amount of power from the ZedPM? Hmm?" He asked the ceiling.

"I have installed dozens of stargates, McKay, and this was no different—"

"Except for the fact that it's tied into the ZedPM!"

"Yes. Yes. Yes, it is. And we matched the ancient connections down to microscopic conduits!" Zelenka dropped his probes and came out of the console with his fists balled. "I triple checked them myself. Everything went like timework!" His thin hair stuck out in several directions.

"Its clockwork, _Dr. Ludovico_!" McKay also rose and retrieved his ceremonial stick from the console to make his point. Of course, his witticism was way over the Czech's short stature. "I never should have left! You almost killed us!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" John reached out and grabbed McKay's arm, stepping between them. "What do you mean killed us?"

McKay glared at Zelenka behind John and his face was livid. "The energy spike is the reason the gate is still active. The ZedPM almost overloaded the buffer and the stargate is simply bleeding off excess energy. Another energy spike of that magnitude in close succession could very well detonate the gate!"

"Connections do not generate energy spikes! Programs do," Zelenka snapped.

"Once again, proving I never should have left the interface installation in your hands!"

"You wrote it!"

"And it was working perfectly before today."

Woolsey's clearing throat broke the awkward silence settling between them. "If we disengage the ZPM, how are you going to repair the system?"

Rodney crossed his arms and wondered if incompetence could actually compound if exposed to equal incompetence. "We have naquadah generators!"

"McKay," Sheppard's warning reminded him to play nice with the boss.

McKay frowned and reined in his foul mood for John. Obviously only he was qualified to fix this. "Look, it's not ideal, but we can operate on the Mark Two generators. The stargate is a primary system so it will take priority. We'll just lose a lot of other equally necessary systems, like secondary diagnostics and, uh, lights…"

•

"Transporters?" Sheppard's flashlight attached to the P90 rail illuminated the zillionth staircase ahead of them as they climbed the last flight to the control room. "You could've mentioned transporters."

Rodney paused to gasp out, "Yes, well … I thought it was more important to … to disengage the ZedPM and save the planet." He held up a finger and glanced at his watch. "Whereas patching in the Mark Two … to run the transporters—"

"You forgot."

"I was going to say … the generator that runs the transporters … are nowhere near the transporters … and there wasn't enough time." McKay started after the colonel again with his computer tablet tucked under his other arm. The damn thing got heavy and awkward after sixty-something flights of stairs.

"You forgot."

Okay, maybe he had overlooked it, but he wasn't going to admit it to the gloating energizer bunny. Rodney arrived in the control room and bent over to catch his breath for a moment. The pores on his pores were sweating and his legs were firing off pins and needles.

"Next time … I'm sending Zelenka." Rodney groaned and arched his back. Getting back in time had been close enough.

"Right," Sheppard smirked, "if you can bring yourself to trust him not to blow up the city."

"Okay, not one of my more brilliant moments," the doctor conceded. "But consider his track record." Dr. McKay headed off toward the consoles where the wild-haired Czech ran the primary system diagnostics in an effort to chase down the power anomaly. As he neared the station, he mopped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. Climate control had also shut down when they pulled the ZPM. It was starting to get warm.

"Anything yet?" He asked Radek. The radiant blue light from the gate flickered in a pattern on the ceiling, illuminating it and leaving the control area in twilight. Once he shut down the gate, he'd get the other generators online and bring back up the muted lights along with the transporters.

"No. I told you we ran this yesterday."

"Let me see." He peered over Dr. Zelenka's shoulder.

Annoyed, Dr. Zelenka gave up his chair and crossed his arms as Rodney scooted in to check over the report. So far, the problem remained elusive and the little engineer's reputation intact. Once the gate shut off, he'd be able to inspect the installation more thoroughly. That unexplained power surge remained a mystery.

"Huh. Carry on." Rodney rose and spotted Sheppard next to Woolsey by the control room rail. He joined them and stared at the active event horizon below them.

Below, a dozen marines guarded the gate with some heavy artillery. They had built a barricade across the central stair to the control room. On opposite causeways over the gate room, Ronon and Teyla had taken up defensive positions.

Just having a stargate opened them up to invasion, but they couldn't bring in parts to repair the control room in a timely manner without it. He had solved that with a mined space gate from the old galaxy bridge. It had hung in geosynchronous orbit for a few days while they ferried control consoles back from the Lord Protector's tower in puddle jumpers.

After five days of selfless devotion, he'd completed the groundwork for the final gate installation. The space gate became their stargate with one spectacular beam of Asgard technology — which he of course supervised and in no way diminished the importance of his crucial groundwork with its instant cheese-whiz appearance.

eHUnfortunately, the gate shield was the hardest repair to make since everything related to the gate had been fried and stargate shields just weren't that common in Pegasus.

"Any progress?" Richard Woolsey immediately asked.

"Well, with the ZedPM pulled, the gate can't draw another power surge from it, so we're safe from annihilation. I'd call that progress. The Mark Two is hooked in and we could dial out in an emergency, but until I find out what's wrong with our new gate, that's a bad plan. And the buffer in the gate has bled off enough power that it should shut down in, uh, another minute or so."

"Great." Sheppard's edginess took him by surprise. The lieutenant colonel looked a bit tense.

"Then I'll be able to test the systems independently. Chuck's giving us a T minus countdown."

"Good work, Dr. McKay." Woolsey made a notation on his computer pad which irked John.

Rodney folded his hands behind his back and couldn't repress the crooked smirk as they waited for the gate to shut down. John had named the tablet 'Woolsey's avalanche of bureaucracy.' It had been quite poetic of the colonel at the time.

"Five!" Chuck interrupted his musings.

"Four.

"Three.

"Two.

"One.

"Mark." And exactly nothing happened.

"What? Why didn't it shut down?" Woolsey looked at him.

"McKay?" Sheppard looked at him.

"I'm receiving an IDC!" Banks cut in and looked at them. "It's Colonel Sheppard's—"

During moments like this, he missed Sam Carter.

"_This is Sheppard," _the colonel's voice echoed over the control room communications systems. _"Nobody shoot. We're coming through with a harmless Smurf."_

For the second time that morning, McKay shot Sheppard's astonished face a murderous glare as a sense of déjà vu upset his tummy.

"Rodney!" Radek's panicked voice rose over the shocked room. "I'm reading an energy surge!"

McKay glanced toward the gate in time to see a blue-faced man emerge from the puddle as a deathly silence settled over the room. His jaw dropped as the next step into the staging area brought out a resounding squelch from a muddied boot protesting the weight it was subjected to.

Clomp. SQUISH! Clomp. SQUISH!

The second blue-faced McKay halted at the sight of the arsenal pointing at him and froze. He squeaked in terror, dropped his ceremonial stick and raised his blue hands. "Don't shoot the Smurf!"

•

TBC

_Next chapter…_Law of Friction


	2. Law of Friction

**Murphy's First Law: **"All things work toward decay."  
by Fandomatic

•

* * *

**Murphy's Law of Friction:**  
"_If anything can go wrong, it will happen to the crankiest person."_

* * *

"Don't shoot the Smurf!" Colonel Sheppard heard McKay chorus beside him in sync with the second McKay down in their gate room. _That's creepy. _John shot a look at McKay to make sure he wasn't hallucinating and relaxed his knee-jerk grip on the P90.

A deathly silence settled over the room as Sheppard regarded the second McKay standing with his blue arms raised and his mouth open in shock on a very blue face. The trail of mud led to the edge of the open event horizon behind him. He looked exactly like the first McKay thirty-eight minutes ago.

"Oh, that can't be good," Sheppard murmured next to his friend. It was perhaps the biggest understatement of the year, but Rodney didn't bite.

"Oh, no." McKay sounded faint.

"Don't shoot!" shouted the second McKay again. "It's me, Dr. Rodney McKay! What's with all the hostility? I mean, Sheppard's right behind me…" And the blue eyes in the blue face found Sheppard above him at the control room rail beside the first McKay. "Oh, no," he echoed the first McKay, sounding quite faint.

"What's going on, Rodney?" Sheppard demanded and turned to the cleaner scientist.

"I-I-I don't know! Alternate universe, Michael-clone, replicator copy, gate hiccup, experiment gone awry, take your pick!" McKay gestured at the other him.

"Gate hiccup?" John repeated.

"Of everything I listed, you had to pick out gate hiccup? I meant malfunction!"

On his other side, Woolsey pointed at the stargate. "The gate didn't shut down."

"Obviously!" Rodney harrumphed.

"We didn't blow up, either," Radek added as he joined them at the rail and pointed at the gate. "That energy surge came from the gate buffer." Zelenka looked smug and oddly vindicated.

"Obviously!" Rodney snarled and crossed his arms.

"Of everything that could go wrong," John pointed at the gate, "another you is the last thing I expected!"

"_Sorry!"_ Rodney snapped. "But I hate to be the one to point out that the other _you_ didn't make it! Where's the rest of … _his_ team?" And McKay pointed at the gate.

Below them the other Rodney McKay rotated his head nervously between the active gate and the upper balcony where everyone gawked and pointed at him.

"Colonel," Woolsey broke in. "We need to isolate him and find out who he is. And I'm afraid I have to insist that your team report to Dr. Keller immediately for a post-mission check up. Any one of you could be … replacements."

"Now? In the middle of a crisis?" Rodney objected.

"All right," Sheppard grimaced and turned to the physicist. He knew what McKay meant by 'crisis.' The last McKay double had crushed his ego. "Look, I'll deal with … _you,_" he jerked his head at the second McKay, "and meet _you_ in the infirmary." John squeezed Rodney's shoulder reassuringly. "You can look at the data just as well in the infirmary, McKay."

"Oh, right. I can't concentrate with vampires hovering over me!" Rodney looked unhappy as Sheppard turned toward the side staircase.

John left the geeks behind and lifted his chin to Ronon Dex on the walkway. Dex joined him as he descended the stair.

"What?"

"You and Teyla report to the infirmary. I'll meet you there. I'm taking _him_," he nodded toward the gate, "to isolation."

"Want some company?"

Sheppard snorted. "He's heard all your jokes."

Dex instantly grinned and shot a look at the second McKay and his muddy boot. "So he has." Ronon broke off and signaled Teyla as John continued on to the second Dr. M. Rodney McKay, who was looking a little blue and flustered.

"I'm Dr. Rodney McKay, astrophysicist and foremost expert on ancient technology. Don't let the blue paint fool you. This is a temporary result from a savage ritual foisted on—"

"I know who you are," John interrupted and tried to keep his sickly expression to a minimum. Just hearing the familiar McKay fanfare sparked annoyance followed by abrupt guilt followed by more annoyance for feeling anything about a fake McKay. He took McKay's Beretta M9 and handed it over to Sergeant Klein, who took his six. Sheppard pulled McKay out of the line of fire into the lower atrium.

"Uh, Sheppard, my team's right behind me. Th-th-that would be you and Ronon and Teyla?" The new blue McKay glanced apprehensively up at the crosswalks where he'd seen his counterparts. "Don't shoot, all right? They're good guys."

"Wasn't planning on it." John wordlessly pointed at his pack and vest with a 'gimme' gesture and Rodney started to shuck them.

"Then what is _that_?" He pointed with a blue finger at the barricade on the central stairwell. Sheppard's steadiness started to take effect. "What happened here? Where's the lights? Can't you even change a light bulb around here? And where's my team?" The blue McKay picked up steam. "They were right behind me! How did you pull me into your reality and what kind of reality is this that doesn't have lights? Did I get sent back to Atlantis, the Dark Ages? You're not an evil Sheppard, are you?"

"Well, if I was evil, I'd have thumb-screws," Sheppard said evenly and admired the vivid blue paint coating Rodney's nose. "Sorry, fresh out. You'll have to make do with verbal abuse, Blue Boy."

"That wasn't funny the first time," muttered Rodney, "and I said so ten minutes ago."

"So … you _prefer_ 'Smurf?'" And it was worth the look McKay shot him again.

"I prefer _Braveheart_!" Rodney instantly snapped.

The sense of déjà vu hit both of them at the same time. Sheppard blinked and McKay froze as his vest hit the floor. Their wide eyes met in recognition. They'd had this conversation on the way to the gate — right before Sheppard had announced to Atlantis that he was 'coming through with a harmless Smurf.' But that was impossible.

"McKay?"

"Sheppard?"

"Okay, this is weird." John scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't just come through the gate with you. I mean, I just came through the gate with my McKay and then you showed up, but… You're not my McKay."

"No," McKay agreed. "My Sheppard's right behind me—" And he looked back at the shimmering stargate, looking for his team who hadn't followed him.

When he turned away, John's eyes narrowed as he noticed the smear of mud on the back of his neck. Was that — but no, it couldn't be the same. His McKay and Teyla were already here.

"The gate's still active. What's going on?" Rodney's worried blue eyes searched Sheppard's puzzled face.

"We don't know. The gate won't shut down and then you popped in."

"Well, I can fix it." McKay took a step toward the control room barricade and John stopped him with a firm hand on his chest. "My team's right behind me! You have to let me go to work! They're going to get sucked into this reality!"

"No. You're not. McKay's working on it — the _real_ McKay. You're going to isolation, so empty your pockets, Smurf-boy."

"This is _so_ not fair!"

Later, after an entire litany of whining from the McKay look-alike — that stretched to include every ailment he was likely to get from wearing a soaked boot to every ailment his fair skin was likely to catch from wearing blue paint — the constant stream of complaints slowed down as he lost his breath.

"Transporters!" the fake McKay finally huffed. "You could've mentioned … the transporters were down!" His bright blue paint had started to run down his face with the sweat that was pouring off his brow. And they were just going _down_ the stairs. It didn't help that the squishing boot had developed a pronounced squeak. Reflectively, John thought it was more of a wheezy squelch that alternately gasped with every step.

"You know_ — SQUELCH! — _I could fix that_ — wheeze! — _in the amount_ — SQUELCH! — _of time it took_ — wheeze! — _to go down this tower." _SQUELCH! _

"Oh, buck up, McKay," He said mildly. Sheppard opened the stairwell door with a wave of his hand and led the squelching, wheezing Blue Boy into the hallway that passed the isolation room. The marines behind them illuminated their feet which cast long gyrating shadows over the corridors.

"We're here." Relieved, Sheppard's flashlight spotlighted the doorway and he ushered Rodney into the red pit. The round room was lit up with a spotlight that glared down on them from the observation deck.

SQUELCH! Wheeze! SQUELCH! Wheeze!

John nodded to Carson's silhouette up at the observation window and turned back to an uncertain McKay. Uncomfortably, he folded his hands over the butt of the P90 and hesitated. Blue Boy looked lost.

"Look, Beckett's going to check you out—"

"Carson?" Instantly, the blue face lit up and turned to squint up at the window where Dr. Beckett watched.

John followed his gaze and Carson's amused grin greeted him. "You _do_ have a Carson in your reality?"

"Of course! I just didn't know if you had another Beckett," Rodney responded.

"A clone Carson?"

"Hmm, looks like the same Carson."

Sheppard nodded. "He's had experience with this sort of thing." This was awkward. It suddenly felt like he was leaving his best friend instead of escorting a prisoner. "Well, then. Good luck."

"John?"

"Yeah?" John opened the door and paused between the two marines stationed outside it.

"Are you coming back?"

"Oh. Sure." John nodded a brief promise and the door closed between them. Swallowing his unease, Sheppard glanced at Johnston and jerked a thumb toward the door. "He doesn't leave."

•

Teyla's elbow bump brought Sheppard's eyes over to the back of the infirmary where Dr. Keller had emerged with McKay and Woolsey. Since Atlantis considered the infirmary a primary system, they had plenty of lights in the room.

Sheppard slid off the bed and stood as Ronon picked up McKay's leftover Jell-O cup and took a bite. Without any verbal agreement, the team abandoned McKay's empty bed and drifted toward the Atlantis leadership assembling near the door of the ancient scanner room. John took it as a good sign that Keller was smiling at Woolsey and McKay.

"How's our uninvited guest, Colonel?" Woolsey asked as they joined the group.

"Blue, whinny, arrogant, squeaks when he walks." Sheppard shrugged and didn't quite pull off the smirk he aimed at McKay. "It's McKay."

Woolsey's brow wrinkled even more. "But is he a 'good' McKay?"

"Contrary to popular culture," Rodney cut in, "There are no good vs. evil realities. There are just different results from a multitude of choices and we got lucky enough to get a double dose of genius." He beamed pointedly at John.

John hiked his hands up on his hips. "I'd say he was the 'good' McKay and we've got the evil one."

"Oh, ha, ha. He's kidding," Rodney worriedly glanced at Woolsey. "Jennifer already cleared me. I'm the original."

"I think that was the point." Dex smirked at the scientist and scooped a big glob of blue Jell-O into his mouth.

"He's kidding, too," McKay nervously amended.

Dr. Keller nodded. "They all checked out, Mr. Woolsey. None of them are clones or replicators or … _zombies_." She laughed alone since none of them had considered zombies until then.

"Yes. Well, aside from raising the dead to terrorize Atlantis," McKay addressed the ceiling and then remembered who had presented it, "—not that I'm discounting the possibility that that could happen, but clearly hasn't in our case — we still have a slight hiccup going on with the gate. And I say 'slight,' because with two geniuses working on it, we can proceed twice as fast."

"Not so fast, Dr. McKay." Richard disagreed. "Dr. Beckett has to clear the other McKay first. So what happened to the gate? Why's it still on?"

Rodney looked unhappy. "As near as I can tell, we have the same problem. Just before it was ready to shut down, the stargate buffer received a power surge and is bleeding off excess power in order to shut down again."

Teyla frowned. "But you disconnected the ZPM so this would not occur again."

"Yes. Yes, I did. Thank you, Teyla." Rodney crossed his arms. "Obviously, this surge came from somewhere other than _our_ ZedPM. And when I say somewhere, I mean some other reality with a ZedPM. Maybe our gate is tuning-in to the _Twilight Zone_. Whatever, the surge is responsible for depositing the other McKay onto our doorstep. How? I don't know yet. But we're not in danger of overloading the gate from our end. I was trying to work out the details when a post-mission checkup got in the way." He directed a pointed glare at Richard Woolsey.

Woolsey's eyes widened. "Dr. McKay, a few years ago, the SGC experienced a similar problem like the one we're having. A team gated in from another reality to steal our ZPM. The SGC was overrun with SG1 counterparts. Since we actually have the ZPM they wanted, it makes more sense that another Atlantis Team actually tries to come through our front door!"

"Hmm. Well, that's one possibility that didn't work." Rodney crossed his arms. "The other team members didn't make it and the gate didn't shut down. And how were they planning on getting home once they stole the ZedPM that powered the anomaly? Not exactly a brilliant plan!"

John smiled. "This McKay might be a little less … _special_. I'll put more guards on the ZPM."

Richard nodded. "Just in case this McKay is evil."

"Enough with the _evil_ scenario! Look, I'll know more when I take a look at the data coming directly off the gate buffer. I have a team pulling it off as we speak and it should be ready for me — oh, would you look at the time I'm wasting," he dramatically looked at his watch, _"now!"_

"Then I'll let you get back to work, Doctor." Woolsey turned to Jennifer. "Dr. Keller, I believe you and I have a meeting with Dr. Beckett."

"Oh, right." Keller made a funny face and followed Woolsey out the door as he made a notation on his tablet.

"Just in time to get in another round of stair climbing," John reminded Rodney cheerfully.

"Oh, great." Rodney looked a bit ill. "Well, let's get started." He gamely turned with Sheppard to repossess his laptop left on his bed.

"Teyla and Ronon will take you up." Sheppard nodded at his teammates following behind them. "I'll catch up later."

McKay shot a glance behind them in time to see the last of his blue Jell-O disappear into Ronon's maw. "Great. Where are you going?"

Sheppard hesitated. "I sorta promised I'd check in on the other you."

"He's fine!" objected McKay. "He can handle it!"

"No he's not, Rodney." John grimaced. "He thinks he's landed in Evil Atlantis, or maybe Medieval Atlantis."

"What ever gave him that idea?" Rodney stopped to collect his equipment as Sheppard kept going.

John answered over his shoulder. "Big barricade. No lights. No transporters. Lots of guns." John turned in the doorway and hefted his P-90 meaningfully. "It was the little things."

As he turned down the hall he heard Teyla ask, "Rodney, is that a _rash_?"

•

Colonel Sheppard didn't intend to relax until the gate situation was resolved. Still dressed in full-gear, he approached the isolation room where Johnston greeted him and opened the door. Inside, he found a fresh-faced Rodney McKay in a pair of blue slippers and his Atlantis jacket. The scientist nervously sprang to his feet off the chair and his pinched face lit up.

"Hey. You came back." He anxiously glanced up at the now empty window where Sheppard had joined Beckett, Keller and Woolsey in a heated conference just moments ago. "Where's my team? Did they make it?"

"Uh, no."

"They never…?"

"No. Sorry. It's just you."

"And the gate's still active?"

John nodded.

"Then there's a chance they'll make it."

The colonel changed the subject. "They treating you okay?"

"Yeah, Keller brought me my slippers." McKay looked down at his feet and wiggled his toes. "It's funny how important your feet become…" He suddenly looked uncomfortable and shot John a nervous look.

Sheppard rubbed his jaw as he stared at the muddied pant leg. "Hmm. Funny how that happens," he agreed and redirected the conversation away from regrets he shouldn't be having with a fake McKay. "Well, I have good news. Carson says you're not a clone or a replicator copy. Near as he can tell, you're a match with our McKay."

"And that means…?"

John folded his hands over the butt of the P90. "My McKay thinks you can help us. Woolsey's on the fence. Beckett?" he shrugged. "So I get to decide whether to trust you."

"Oh. Well, what does Carson say?"

Sheppard hesitated. "He doesn't know which way you swing." And it was worth the mortified look McKay gave him.

"Oh, no!" McKay deflated. "I thought we made a solemn vow never to bring that up again!"

"Good enough for me," John announced and cued his headset. "Johnston, open the door."

Rodney gaped at him. "What? That's it? You're going to base all your decision on whether or not the most embarrassing moment in my life took place?"

John grinned and showed him out the door. "Yep. That and a solemn vow that only _you_ seem to remember."

•

When Sheppard arrived with the second McKay in tow, the scene in the gate room was busier than usual. The science team had technicians crawling all over the gate with sensors and probes. John had explained their problem to the fake McKay on the way up the many stairs. His slippers slopped along next to him as Rodney valiantly tried to keep pace.

"So your McKay thinks … there's only a few minutes … left on the wormhole?"

"Yep."

McKay snorted.

"What? You don't think it'll shut down?"

"For what it's worth…, I don't think your McKay … thinks it will shut down either."

"What?" Sheppard stopped and followed him with his eyes as the second Rodney McKay passed him and surveyed the control room with a smug, breathless smile.

"He needs a double dose of genius." His arrogant chin lifted as he spotted the first McKay across the room and grinned happily at the sight. The two McKay's met, shook hands enthusiastically, and started exchanging geek talk as Sheppard trailed into the darkened alcove.

"John," he heard Teyla call from the crosswalk as she led Mr. Woolsey into the room. "I just spoke with Rodney and he does not think the event horizon will close this time."

"Yeah, that's what the other McKay said McKay thought." His brow furrowed at the twisted logic of his words.

"Okay! Listen up, people!" Rodney's loud voice brought silence to the busy room. "This is not a drill! You all have your respective stations to man and record. Chuck will start with the T minus countdown at five seconds out," he looked at his watch, "in thirty seconds. Your job is to get as much data as possible coming off the stargate buffer and systems for myself and me to sift through. I want all eyes on the equipment and off the event horizon. There is no need for loitering at the rail. Thank you."

The two McKays folded their hands behind their respective backs and walked straight over to the rail balcony to loiter. Smugly, they watched their minions scurry and scatter in preparation for the event. Sheppard, Teyla and Woolsey joined the two and John couldn't help the tension that started to knot in his shoulders again. Below, he spotted Ronon taking up a position behind the artillery.

They were ready for whatever walked through the gate this time. And watching the smug McKays, he had a feeling they weren't sharing again.

"Five!" Chuck began.

"Four.

"Three.

"Two.

"One.

"Mark."

"It didn't shut down," Woolsey observed into the dead silence.

The two McKays held up a silencing finger and chorused, "Wait for it."

"Colonel Sheppard's IDC again!" Banks announced.

"_This is Sheppard,"_ the colonel's voice echoed over the silent control room_. "Nobody shoot. We're coming through with a harmless Smurf."_

"Oh, crap." John's stomach twisted in dread. _Not another one!_

"I'm reading another energy spike!" Dr. Zelenka shouted as another blue-faced McKay walked out of the event horizon with a pronounced gait.

Clomp. SQUISH! Clomp. SQUISH!

The third painted McKay froze at the sight of the arsenal. He also squeaked in terror, dropped his ceremonial stick and raised his blue hands. "Don't shoot the Smurf!"

•

TBC

_Next chapter…_Law of Equivalents


	3. Law of Equivalents

**Murphy's First Law: **"All things work toward decay."  
by Fandomatic

•

* * *

**Murphy's Law of Equivalents  
**"_A man with one watch is certain about time. A man with two watches isn't."_

* * *

Teyla Emmagan, Athosian leader, mother of Torren John, and beloved wife of Kanaan, and warrior still capable of kicking everyone's ass on Atlantis that wouldn't eat her tuttleroot soup, took a deep and stilling breath at the sight of the third painted Rodney McKay. One was quite enough. Instantly, she sensed the anger in John.

"You _knew_ this was going to happen!" John's accusation at the two identical McKays cracked across the silent atrium and echoed back. Below, the third McKay targeted the voice and his jaw dropped as he saw his teammates with the other two McKays. Whatever he had planned to say died in his throat.

"What do you mean, he _knew?"_ Woolsey, confused as always, was three steps behind.

"Well, I was about ninety-nine percent sure it was a gate malfunction," one of the McKays said. Teyla had to look at the sneakers to know it was their McKay.

"_Malfunction_?" Zelenka's angry voice rose from the back of the room.

"Yes. Yes, _malfunction_," McKay sneered and turned around. "I would call _that_ a malfunction!" He pointed at the stargate.

"An _obvious_ malfunction bordering on one hundred percent sure!" the second McKay continued with hardly a breath between them. "That makes it ninety-nine percent _your_ fault!" He crossed his arms in unison with the first McKay.

"Ninety-nine percent?" Zelenka rose to his full unassuming height. "I am one-hundred percent sure it is not because of me! There has never been a recorded _malfunction_ with the stargates that wasn't caused by an outside source!"

"Which we've established is the ZedPM! That's why the control crystal is so precisely interfaced to avoid just this kind of scenario from happening! And it's _malfunctioning_ at two hundred percent already!"

"Oh, why don't you include yourself with that and make it _three_ hundred percent!" Radek Zelenka stood up and pointed at the second McKay. "Since you have so many extra selves to berate me with, maybe I should leave all the work to you and you and the _new_ you!" He picked up his data pad and stormed out of the control room.

Shocked, Teyla followed his exit with her eyes along with the rest of the control room staff.

"He's right. We don't need him," the second McKay said and looked at his mirror smugly. "We have me."

Teyla caught Sheppard's displeased glance and she rolled her eyes in agreement.

If it was possible, Woolsey's knitted brow knitted even tighter as his gaze centered back on his chief scientist. "What's going on with the gate, Dr. McKay?" Richard demanded.

"Essentially, our ZedPM gave the stargate the hiccups," the first McKay announced.

Slippers McKay frowned and interrupted, "Not my first choice of terminology."

"You missed that conversation," Sneakers McKay answered. "Anyway, the gate is rematerializing me at the moment I gated in the first time every thirty-eight minutes. He's my copy."

"Only thirty-eight minutes younger."

"Oh, you didn't have to bring that up. Anyway, it's me…"

"Times three!"

Both McKays looked delighted with each other. "It's a copy gate," they both chorused happily.

"Well, _Xerox_, do you think you can fix it?" John asked. "I hate to be the one to point this out but in twenty-four hours, there's gonna be thirty-eight more McKays running around!"

"Of course, I can fix it." Sneakers McKay looked uneasy and modified quickly. "I mean, I think _we_ can fix it. That's why I recorded everything." He gestured uncertainly at the control room.

"But we could really use another genius."

"How about it, Woolsey, can we get the other me up here?"

"Without wasting another thirty minutes in the isolation room?"

Woolsey shook his head. "Protocol states that every returning team member gets a clean bill of health. This malfunction could be degenerating."

The second McKay looked slightly ill at this suggestion and shifted uncomfortably in his blue slippers. "Maybe I should schedule myself for a checkup in another hour."

"Teyla," John growled. The tension in his voice rolled over her.

She smiled and squeezed John's forearm reassuringly. "I will take care of the new McKay, John." John met her eyes in relief.

"Ooh," Rodney added hurriedly, "let him keep his computer and tell him I'll e-mail him."

"Oh, and make him take off his boots now," the second Rodney added after her back.

"His boots?" questioned the first McKay.

Teyla smiled as she heard the scientist continue behind her. "Yeah. Nasty blister."

Teyla Emmagan left them and hurried down the central stairs. She approached the third McKay, still in the center of the staging area and nodded to the sergeant covering him. The scientist looked extremely nervous and agitated behind the blue paint.

"I'm Dr. Rodney McKay, astrophysicist and foremost expert on ancient technology. Don't let the blue paint fool you. This is a temporary result from a-a-a, uh, ritual—"

"Rodney, you are among friends." Teyla smiled at him and gave him an Athosian greeting. Hesitantly, Rodney clasped her arms and touched his blue forehead to hers, leaving a blue smudge on her beautiful brow.

"Uh, sorry, you've got," he swirled his blue finger around his forehead, "blue me all over you."

Teyla took his blue arm and led him down into the lower atrium. "I am honored." She led him to two identical backpacks in the center of the floor and pointed at the pile. "This is but a formality. You need to leave your gear here along with your boots and accompany me to isolation. However, Dr. McKay would like you to keep your computer. Sergeant Klein, please take the doctor's sidearm."

Her calm, formal manner was having the effect she wanted. The high-strung scientist settled down as he shrugged out of his pack and surrendered his Beretta M9. "My team's right behind me. That would be Sheppard, Ronon and you." McKay glanced apprehensively up at the empty control room balcony. "What kind of reality is this with a big barricade and no lights? I assume you don't have a shield? And how did you pull me into your reality? Or maybe why is a better question. Do I have a twin brother? What's his name—?"

"All will be explained shortly, Rodney." Teyla calmly lined up the pack with the other two. "Please remove your vest."

Rodney's blue eyes noted her own gear that she still wore as he started unstrapping the Kevlar vest. When he finished, he tossed it on top of its twins next to the ceremonial stick. Another stick clattered as it hit the pile and settled next to the vests. Startled, McKay glanced at the sergeant that had thrown it there as Teyla thanked him.

"Now your boots, Rodney."

"What?"

"Dr. McKay wishes for you to remove your boots before you develop a blister."

"Oh." Rodney sat down and started untying the dry boot first. Teyla frowned as her eye fell on the thick smear of mud coating the back of Rodney's neck.

"Of all the stupid things that could go wrong, it all happens to me in one day," he muttered. "You know how miserable a wet boot is?" He didn't wait for a reply. "I had to walk all the way to the gate in it. I'll probably develop a nasty infected blister, or trench foot or athlete's foot, or some sort of alien Pegasus fungus. It'll probably take weeks to recover and the itching will be intolerable. I can already feel the rash developing, which means I'm probably allergic. Who knows what sorts of bacteria are loose in the cesspools of Pegasus! Do you know how uncomfortable a muddy boot can be? Every step is torture! The slime and the squishing and the wrinkled toes…"

Teyla rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. No wonder the colonel did not wish to greet his friend. He was still particularly cranky and Ronon had helped it along brilliantly. Ronon may have found a release for his demons, but Rodney remained clueless. "Rodney, do you wish for another cure?" Her tone sharpened.

"What? Do you have—" McKay broke off abruptly as the boot came off his foot. "Oh, no! Not again!" He glared at Teyla and threw the boot toward the stack of growing gear and started in on the muddied one. "I don't want any more of your kinds of cures — no thank you! It's bound to involve smelly slime being placed on parts of my anatomy that are best left unsullied and free of chaffing!"

"Did the bugs stop biting you or not?" Teyla asked reasonably.

"Yes. Yes, they did, but then…"

Teyla froze for a moment as the moment of déjà vu passed. Astonished, she watched him touch the crusty dried mud on the back of his neck as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. Recognition dawned in his eyes.

"Teyla?"

"Rodney?"

"You can't be my Teyla. She's right behind me." McKay looked back at the activated gate for his team that hadn't made it and demanded, "Where's my team?" He climbed to his feet with the boot forgotten. "What have you done with them?"

Her heart softened with the obvious worry in his voice. "This is going to sound strange. I have never heard of such a thing, but you — I mean McKay … is telling us the stargate is malfunctioning."

McKay's eyes widened and he fixed on the open gate. "My team! You mean my team isn't going to make it?"

"Your team is well and we are right here, Rodney," Teyla squeezed his arm and waited for him to look at her. "You see, _you,_ Dr. McKay, are the result of the malfunction."

"Oh, no," Rodney sounded faint.

"We already came through the gate more than an hour ago," she gently explained as McKay stared in shock at the identical backpacks. "We do not know why, but the stargate will not shut down and you keep coming out of the event horizon every thirty-eight minutes."

"I'm a … _malfunction_?"

•

Thirty minutes later when Teyla and the third scrubbed Rodney McKay ascended to the control room level, her McKay hurried over to the pair of McKays and plugged his tablet into a control station. Teyla continued on to join Sheppard and Dex at the overhead causeway at the rail. Below, the gate room still had a double compliment of guards with extra firepower. John seemed twice as tense as she greeted him.

Sheppard nodded at the busy McKays in the darkened control room. "How's your Rodney?"

"I did not know there were so many back ailments and foot disorders one could acquire from shoes." She saw both sets of eyes drop to Rodney's socks as he padded around the consoles with his counterparts. Identically dressed, except for their footwear, she could not tell them apart. "I fetched his last pair of clean socks and his jacket while Dr. Beckett ran some extra tests to assure him he is not suffering from a 'degenerating copy' disease."

Sheppard nodded without much surprise and eyed Richard Woolsey's office as the bald Atlantis commander picked up his tablet of bureaucracy and started toward them. "Woolsey's getting antsy." He glanced at his watch. "The Daedalus is due in sixteen hours and without contact with the SGC…" John trailed off and she knew he didn't want to say what he was thinking aloud. He was about to be outranked and Woolsey didn't like to interfere in military affairs — not that he couldn't. But Woolsey liked his methodical procedures, rank rigidity, and documentation — just like the military. Anything like malfunctioning gates didn't fit into his manual.

"McKay will think of something," Ronon spoke up. "He's always saying how smart he is. Well, now he's got three brains."

Sheppard grunted in amusement. "That's what I'm worried about. He likes his company a little too much," the colonel observed as Richard walked up to them.

Teyla surveyed the interaction of the McKays and silently agreed with Sheppard. The McKays did seem extraordinarily smug and condescending — more so than usual.

Woolsey halted before their group. "It's time for some answers from the McKays before another one gets here. He's had two and a half hours to work on the problem and examine the data." Woolsey looked down at his tablet and frowned unhappily. "I'd prefer meeting in the conference room, but the lights are out."

John clapped Woolsey on the shoulder and steered him toward the McKays. "I'm a little afraid of the dark, myself. Let's go see if McKay can shed some light on this."

As Woolsey stuttered an incoherent response, the Athosian and Satedan exchanged amused smiles and trailed after them.

The group stopped at the center console where a Rodney compared three sets of data streams on the display. Irritable, Dr. McKay looked up as everyone looked down at his tennis shoes to make sure he was the original.

He scratched the side of his neck and grumbled, "Is it _that_ time already?"

"Five minutes to the gate anomaly," Woolsey prompted. "You said you would have something by now."

"Well, yes, yes, I do have something. I have a rash developing everywhere that blue paint—"

"Rodney." John pinched the bridge of his nose and Teyla wondered if he was trying to hide a smile or getting a headache. Maybe a little of both.

McKay rolled his eyes to the other McKay still tapping away at another station. "Well, we can't _all_ be geniuses."

The other two doubles chuckled.

"But I do have this." He waved at the three graphs. "We pulled this off the buffer. This graph represents the first, second and third anomalies. The first thing that jumped out at me was the twenty-two second echo in them all. This faint line mimics the energy readings from the moment the event horizon engaged to the massive energy spike when I arrived, a total of twenty-two seconds. It shouldn't be there. The stargates don't produce _echoes _of matter_._ They reform matter. Near as I can tell, the power spike recycles the gate every time to reproduce this echo and unfortunately reforms the echo … which in turn keeps it open."

"So if you delete this echo, you could turn it off?" Woolsey looked encouraged.

"Theoretically," McKay snapped, "if you _want_ to blow up the planet, good answer! But since I had the foresight to pull the ZedPM to divert just such a disaster—"

"Rodney." John folded his arms.

McKay crossed his arms and glared back at Sheppard. "Look, the buffer is already close to overloaded. The only way to reset the gate is another massive energy burst near the event horizon, which is not my first choice!"

"But this means we're in a catch twenty-two!" Woolsey pointed at the screen. "We can't turn it off because we'll blow up?"

"So far. But you're talking about geniuses working on a solution and we've only had thirty-odd minutes to diagnose the problem!"

"But is there another—" Woolsey's musings were cut short by Chuck's console beeping.

"Mr. Woolsey. We're being hailed by Colonel Caldwell." Chuck spun in his chair. "The Daedalus just popped up on our scanners. They're in geosynchronous orbit above us."

"They're early," Ronon grunted.

"Perhaps Larrin's group did not require our assistance," Teyla suggested as Sheppard straightened with her name.

"There's no way he could have made it back here since their last check in," John pointed out. "That's a twelve-hour trip."

"Put them on screen," Richard ordered and the group turned to the large screen behind them and Caldwell's imaged fuzzed on it.

Caldwell's voice sounded like a high-pitched little girl's._ "Mr. Wool — — lost — — and — — to — — past sixteen—"_ The screen jumped and fuzzed erratically.

"Can't we get a better connection?" Woolsey complained.

"Already working on it," a McKay answered. The connection cleared and Caldwell's face stopped fading in and out. "Hmm, that's strange," he muttered.

"Colonel Caldwell, welcome to Atlantis. You're a day early. We didn't expect you until tomorrow," Woolsey greeted.

"_What are you talking about?" _His voice had cleared of the distortion._ "We lost contact with you sixteen hours ago and we're right on schedule! We were worried something had happened."_ Colonel Caldwell looked annoyed that no one was maimed.

Woolsey tapped on his tablet of bureaucracy and corrected him politely. "You're not scheduled for a check in until 1800 hours. That's in two hours."

"_That was yesterday. It's 1000! We've been trying to contact you for the past sixteen hours!"_

"Oh, no!" the Rodneys chorused faintly.

Caldwell's eyes turned to the multiple McKays and he blinked, muttering_, "Am I seeing double, or is that a problem with my screen?"_

"There's nothing wrong with your screen," Sheppard hiked his hands on his hips. "You should beam in, sir. You're not going to want to miss this."

"Yes," Rodney agreed, suddenly agitated. "Yes. They need to land and they need to land now!"

"_I'm coming down. Caldwell out."_

While a vertical light filled the empty balcony as Colonel Steven Caldwell beamed in and hurried over to join them, Teyla glanced uneasily at her team leader. John looked like he wanted to strangle one of the Rodneys. She knew that look. John thought Rodney was holding something back, too.

"Woolsey, Colonel," Caldwell nodded to Sheppard and the Atlantis Commander.

"Colonel," John greeted.

"McKay?" Steven uneasily surveyed the three McKays working over the ancient consoles. "What's going on?"

While the men explained their situation to Caldwell, Teyla focused on the McKays. Rodney kept shooting his counterparts uneasy looks as the pair of McKays put their heads together and whispered in panic. All three looked extremely ill.

She was about to confront them when Chuck's announcement pre-empted her.

"Five!"

For an instant, she could have heard a pin drop before the entire command group hurriedly shuffled over to the balcony along with Sneakers McKay. She joined them as Chuck continued counting down in the background.

"I thought stargates couldn't malfunction, doctor." Caldwell surveyed the barricade and defenses approvingly.

"Well, that's obviously wrong!" McKay snapped and scratched the growing red spot on his cheek again.

"McKay!" John warned.

"Mark!" Chuck finished.

McKay responded by lifting his chin. "Look, when exposed to energy, the stargates react in different ways. I think our ZedPM powered the error. If I hadn't disconnected it, we would have blown up with the second power surge."

"How is that possible?" Sheppard asked. "If the ZPM is disconnected, how did the gate get another power surge?"

McKay gulped and his eyes darted from Caldwell to Sheppard. "Because of the Daedalus' discrepancy in time, I think the gate is generating a time-dilation field."

"Colonel Sheppard's IDC!" Amelia called out.

John stared at him in horror and the silence grew thicker between them.

"_This is Sheppard,"_ the recorded voice reverberated through the atrium_. "Nobody shoot. We're coming through with a harmless Smurf." _

"A time-dilation field?" John crossed his arms.

"And … mark!" a McKay shouted as the fourth McKay walked out of the event horizon with his blue face and ceremonial stick. "Fourth energy spike!"

Clomp. SQUISH! Clomp. SQUISH!

Teyla ignored the fourth painted McKay along with most of the Atlantis crew and centered her attention on Rodney. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Dr. McKay, explain this time-dilation field!"

Rodney's face pinched. "I'm not really sure, but the wormhole might be looping time which is slowing our forward progress in time."

"Don't shoot the Smurf!" McKay's voice echoed from the staging area.

John's voice cracked slightly, "Well, isn't that just the icing on the cake."

•

TBC

_Next chapter…_Law of Possession


	4. Law of Possession

**Murphy's First Law: **"All things work toward decay."  
by Fandomatic

•

* * *

**Murphy's Law of Possession:  
**_"One good turn gets most of the blankets."_

* * *

The runner swung his attention from the gate area and focused on the Atlantis military leader. It didn't surprise Ronon Dex that Sheppard was about to crack. Now, as the three McKays joined ranks at the rail, their body language made it clear. They were united and shoring up defenses.

"_MaKay-sss!"_ John hissed with promises of asses handed out.

Below, the blue-faced McKay responded to his mangled name and his eyes took in the unlikely sight of almost three identical mirrors of himself — almost identical, because the first McKay had a slightly distinguished red rash developing over his cheeks and hands. The fourth McKay's red mouth made a perfect circle in the blue paint as everyone ignored him except the gate sergeant.

Caldwell poked the middle McKay in the chest with an angry finger. "Just what do you mean by looping?"

Colonel Caldwell frowned in confusion when Slippered McKay to the left answered, "Look, there's only a few ways for matter to transfer through the gate, and the key to that statement is _transfer._"

Sockered McKay of the knitted-kind proved he wasn't sockered at all. "The transfer comes from a source, be it power, gate, another reality, or another time — without getting into E=MC squared."

It just confused Ronon more as Slippered McKay took up the lecture again. "Looping means just that. The wormhole isn't reproducing a recording from the extra power boost. It's actually _connected_ to the event. We're hearing a repetition of the past, or rather — er, twenty-two seconds of it."

Sneakers McKay smoothed his poked jacket. "As soon as I realized there was an effect on time, I realized we _had_ to be dealing with a past event."

"You mean it's stuck on _rewind_?" Sheppard fairly glowered.

At the same time all three McKay's started snapping their fingers. It was a little disconcerting that they all clicked in unison.

Sockered McKay began, "The ZedPM must be powering the progressive jump in time…"

"But the echo happens before the jump…" Sneakers Rodney shared an excited look with Sockered McKay.

"But that's impossible without…" Slippered McKay joined the other two in enthusiasm.

Woolsey demanded impatiently, "What's impossible?"

Sockered McKay came out of his self-congratulatory convention first. "An outside source generated the first echo!"

The three McKays looked at each other and chorused, "It's not a natural malfunction!"

The Rodney in the middle started an explanation that bounced back and forth between the McKays too fast for Ronon to track which one was talking. "That means we might be able to control it … Something specific is affecting the gate from the moment it engaged to the moment I stepped out of the event horizon … The echo copied my pattern before I stepped through the event horizon … When I rematerialized on this side of the gate, the gate reproduced the echo … We must have carried it through the gate!" In unison, their eyes dropped to the blue-faced McKay with the ceremonial stick at his feet.

Sneakers McKay scratched his reddening face. "The Ancient gene test … they made such a big deal about it. … Oh God, it must be gene-sensitive!" He pointed in dismay at the carved stick.

Sheppard whispered, "We've been shafted."

Dex exchanged a promising look with Teyla and her tawny eyes agreed with him that some monks were about to lose the use of their arms.

Sheppard ordered one of the security guards to gather up all the ceremonial sticks as the McKays urged Caldwell to land his ship before they lost communication with them. Each time the gate looped time, the time-dilation field became stronger and slowed their progress. Caldwell reluctantly agreed and beamed away to supervise the task.

As the marine plunked four identically carved ceremonial sticks into McKay's red hands, John growled, "It's time to start earning that _quarter _of your pay." His meaning was unmistakable. Ronon didn't think McKay was trying very hard to end the McKay parade either.

"Quarter? What do you mean…? Mr. Woolsey?"

"Dr. McKay, this is not the time to address a pay issue."

"Yes, but how am I suppose to survive on a quarter of my earnings? This is clearly a mission complication!" Armed with the sticks, McKay shook them meaningfully at the Atlantis Commander.

"We simply don't have the budget for this."

As the other Rodneys joined the argument with Woolsey, Ronon caught John's silent order and pulled Teyla away from the group. Dex flexed his hand and hoped John had a plan of attack. He was becoming restless with all the McKay action.

Sheppard dashed his hopes of combat with his first words, "Look at him. He loves this. He's in heaven and I'm in _hell_."

"I, too, believe Dr. McKay is holding back," Teyla quietly agreed. "I do not believe he really wants this to end."

"We need to _fix_ him or we're gonna get stuck with more … _hims_," John growled.

"Rodney never liked sharing," Teyla suggested and her gaze dropped to his several pairs of feet in various stages of dress.

Dex realized that neither one of them knew what made McKay tick. They were going to botch it. "Bet I can fix him."

They looked at Ronon in surprise. But when Sheppard glanced at Teyla, her mouth thinned, and the Colonel turned to glare at him. "Like you _fixed_ him before?"

"Ronon," Teyla warned.

Undeterred, Ronon tossed his long dreadlocks behind a shoulder and challenged, "Bet I can fix him before you can."

"What Is this? A _race?"_ Sheppard looked even madder as he invaded his space.

"John," Teyla grabbed his arm.

Ronon shrugged and crossed his arms. "I know what's bugging him."

That stopped Sheppard cold. "Really?"

Ronon grinned. From the look on his face, Sheppard didn't have a clue. "You take these guys and I'll take the new one."

"Something's bugging him?" Sheppard blinked.

Ronon Dex shook his head. He wasn't going to make it easy for Sheppard. "Three to one, but I'll still beat you."

"How could you not notice his excessively sour disposition lately?" Teyla gestured with frustration.

"_Fine_," John's eyes narrowed. "You can start with _him_." He pointed down into the atrium.

Ronon swiveled and bounded down the side stairs. He felt Sheppard's glare nailing a hole in his back, but he was grateful for the chance to redeem himself. It was obvious Sheppard thought he would apologize to the McKays, but that wouldn't motivate them.

In the background, he heard a McKay continue his case, or cases. "There are _four_ state of the art computers down there, not to mention military supplies. Technically, they don't exist and the paperwork for same serial-numbered equipment would be—"

As Ronon neared the bottom of the stairs, he heard John's voice explode through the foyer. _"McKay!"_

The Satedan smirked because Sheppard's anger wouldn't work either. McKay could give as good as he got.

As his long strides closed the distance between him and his quarry, he sized up his competition. McKay already looked skittish and ready to bolt under the blue paint. The fourth McKay shot a terrified look toward his counterpart teammates up on the control room balcony and his eyes widened in horror when they completely ignored him.

Ronon knew how he felt, stripped of his arms and relieved of his boots by the gate sergeant, standing barefoot and exposed in what he thought was an enemy's camp. Just as Dex loomed over him with his intimidating height and the poor scientist looked ready to soil his pants, McKay found his tenuous courage and stiffened his spine.

"Ronon?" he questioned as his chin lifted in defiance.

"McKay," Dex grunted. It never failed to amuse him that Rodney could quail like a little girl until the absolute last second. "Come on. We're going to isolation." He started McKay toward the hallways.

Right on cue, McKay resisted and stuttered, "B-b-but what about my team? Ronon, they're right behind me! You, Teyla and Sheppard. They're good guys. Don't shoot them!" He pointed back at the staging area where the gate remained activated and the blue light filled the atrium with flexing reflections.

The plea earned a grunt of grudging respect from the Satedan. "They're already here," Ronon said and easily manhandled him into the hall.

"What do you mean they're _here?"_ McKay's feet slapped the tiled floor as they approached the stairs and Dex guided him onto the landing. He turned on his flashlight and led the way down into the darkness.

"You're late … again." Ronon's voice echoed into the well.

"What? That doesn't make any sense. They were right behind me! What is this place? What happened to the lights? How'd you pull me into your reality and what kind of reality is this that needs four of me and still doesn't have lights? What's going on? Oh, God, I must be desperate. Look who I'm asking! It's Conan. It's obvious why they sent you. You're going to coerce me into helping you do some diabolical plan for the evil McKay who is kidnapping—"

Ronon smothered his grin. "Don't you _ever_ shut up?"

"Certain doom has that effect on me. I tend to babble and verbalize anything that pops into my head — and that's a considerable amount of popping considering it's my head…" McKay's worried blue eyes darted over the stoic runner. "I-I-I'll shut up now."

Dex counted six peaceful landings before Rodney McKay burst out at the next turn of the stairs. "Look, what happened to the transporters and why is it getting hotter? I'm going to get a blister the size of a walnut here if we continue down these stairs the entire way! You have no idea what I've gone through today. You see this paint? Well, it's itchy and it evidently attracts large stinging bugs in swarms! So you see I can face anything, because _nothing_ compares to the misery that I've already gone through in the last three days!"

Ronon took the hallway toward the medical facilities and hid his smirk. "If it bothers you, I know a trick to take your mind off it."

"Aw, no!" Rodney shot him a murderous glare. "I'm not falling for that trick again! You can keep your sadistic Satedan tricks to yourself. No more helpful shoves…" McKay faltered as his mind caught up with his mouth. He stopped short and his jaw dropped as Ronon grinned at him. "_You_ shoved me into the bog!"

Ronon pointed toward the isolation door. "You forgot about the face paint, didn't you?"

McKay missed a couple of beats as he gaped at him, trying to comprehend the fact that they shared the same history. "I stepped up to my knee in slime! Of course I forgot about the paint — I had mud between my toes and a boot full of stinking bog!"

As he ushered McKay into isolation, Ronon spotted Keller up on the observation deck and abandoned McKay to Carson Beckett with a pat on the back and a quick, "See you later." McKay looked properly terrified and confused with his promise as he left.

Ronon tied his long locks back with a leather thong as he bounded up to the observation room where Jennifer Keller worked over a microscope. He'd been avoiding her since she'd dumped him, so he was surprised at how easy he felt seeing her. She reminded him of his former life and that familiarity felt nice.

"Jennifer."

"Hey, Ronon. You're late," she said without looking up. "He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. Carson doesn't even have his blood ready for me."

"It's getting tense upstairs."

"I can believe that." Jennifer spared him an amused smile. "What happened?"

Dex glanced down at a confused Rodney submitting to Carson's care and tried to look contrite at the uncertainty reflected in Rodney's manner. "I'm no good at talking, Jennifer." He gestured at McKay below them. "I made him worse."

Jennifer rose in alarm from her lab work and joined him at the glass. "Who? Rodney?"

"Yeah."

"What'd you say to him—? Never mind." Dr. Keller patted his arm. "Don't worry. I'll talk to him, Ronon."

"You should catch the show upstairs," Ronon suggested as she smiled softly at the blue face below them.

She quickly shook her head. "I'm not sure I can get away."

Dex scowled down at the new blue Rodney and the scientist noticed his displeasure with open nervousness. While Beckett tried to get him to wash his face off on a wet towel, Rodney suddenly didn't want to cooperate either. Even Keller wasn't cooperating. Ronon swiftly realized he was looking at the solution and his scowl faded.

"You sure? McKay's got a rash."

"Really? Why didn't he call me? Where?"

"All over his face and hands."

Keller cued her headset. "Carson, I need a sample of that blue paint before you wash it off. McKay developed a rash." Below, Carson waved at her and put down the towel. Jennifer turned back to Ronon. "I'll make a house call. You're off the hook, Ronon. I'll bring him up when we're done with him … along with a cure for the McKays."

Ronon shrugged. "I can wait. I'll help you carry up what you need."

"You're a good friend, Ronon." Jennifer Keller smiled up at him before she became a little nervous. "I'll just… I better go talk to Rodney now."

Ronon Dex grinned and looked forward to Sheppard's grumpy admiration. All he had to do was sit back and wait for the McKays to calculate the odds of winning Jennifer from themselves in the future. His little ego trip was about to end.

•

The fourth McKay, barefoot and cranky with Ronon after he discovered that he was _his_ Ronon, gingerly climbed the stairs between the Satedan and Dr. Keller. His competitive nature led him to insert himself between the two and actually keep up the pace. He directed glares at Ronon but no amount of insisting would make Ronon give up the small case he carried for Dr. Keller.

Ronon easily fell back into the familiar pattern of competition with McKay, who obviously hadn't been notified he'd already won. It was fun to tease the little geek again. At least now, he no longer wanted to kill him. Shoving the whiny scientist into the bog had been the most cathartic and cleansing steam-letting he'd allowed himself to do in a long, long time.

Ronon smirked as they reached the control room and Keller hurried off to attend to the rash breaking out on the first McKay's face. The sight of Jennifer fussing over another McKay made the fourth Rodney hesitate — just like the Sockered McKay in the room. But Slippered McKay was nowhere to be seen.

Ronon clapped Barefoot McKay on the shoulder and said smugly, "She doesn't strike me as the sharing type."

Rodney's expression of instant jealousy was almost comical. His bare feet slapped across the floor as he zeroed in on his competition. Ronon could hardly contain his self-satisfied smirk as he joined Sheppard on the gate room balcony.

"What's that expression, eat my dust?" Ronon leaned back against the rail and crossed his arms with glee at the situation developing in the control room. _And say goodbye to Jennifer, McKays._

Sheppard watched in awe as Ronon's work rippled like mini bombs going off as every male hormone McKay had turned against each other. In the center ring, a red-faced Rodney basked in the pleasure of Jennifer Keller tenderly spreading a soothing lotion on his face and hands. The fallout began with the fourth Rodney, who demanded to be next in line. Jumping places was instantly unacceptable to Sockered McKay. Jennifer hesitantly tried to stop the three-ring circus surrounding her with the assurance that there was plenty of lotion to go around. A blissful Sneakers McKay only made it worse by declaring the other McKays could just go it alone since he was obviously in such distress. A loud argument broke out as the others started reporting their various minor ailments and the dire consequences of untreated blisters, back aches, and accumulating foot-disorders. The lofty assertion to 'go take a number' by the 'number one' McKay almost started a riot that Jennifer ended by slamming her case closed and yelling, "Rodney!" She looked at the three McKays in the room and ended back on a red-faced Rodney. "This is not _working_!"

The entire room silently watched her shove the tube into his hands and retreat back down the stairs with her hair flying.

"I better go after—" Ronon looked after Jennifer and stopped when Sheppard grabbed his arm.

"Oh, no you don't," John glared. "I said _fix_ him. Not make it worse."

"I did," Ronon protested and pointed at the reddening faces. "Now he's McKay again."

John's jaw muscles jumped as he watched his red friend take a marker and ink a number one in the narrow blue panel on his uniform and declare, "As the first McKay, I'm not losing _my_ name, _my_ quarters, _my_ salary — meager as it is, _my_ orthopedic mattress, or _my_ slippers to any of you! You're all on your own and will have to fend for yourselves because if you even have _half_ my brain, you can make it work."

"_This_," Sheppard hissed, "is not fixing him, _Ronon_."

"He's motivated." Dex grinned and watched Sockered McKay rip into Sneakers McKay for being only an hour and sixteen minutes his senior. Sockered grabbed the pen and quickly drew a four on Barefoot McKay before he turned the marker on himself and wrote a three with a loftier-than-thou expression.

"Not helping," Sheppard growled as Slippered McKay slopped up the side stairs in his blue slippers that were about to be reclaimed by McKay-the-first. He carried one of the carved sticks in his hands and Sheppard quickly went to intercept him before he became part of Ronon's fallout.

Dex meekly followed.

"What's going on?" Rodney asked as he tried to get a clear look at the three McKays in some sort of argument.

"Nothing," John casually blocked his way and indicated the carved stick. "What'd you find out?"

McKay looked down at the elaborately decorated stick and frowned. "Oh, this?" The shaft almost had a black, ebony-like finish with long scrolled leaves carved up along its length like an elongated cabbage with ribbed veins. The tip flowered delicately as the ruffled edges made neat little petals along its bulbous tip. "Uh, it's not an ancient copier. I-I-It's bad news. I opened up one of them — well, I actually had to break it, and..."

"What, Rodney?" Sheppard asked impatiently.

Rodney scratched his reddening cheeks and rambled, "It's not ancient like we thought at first which would've been neat if it was a duplicator. Because if it was a duplicator, there would be a way to turn it off, but it isn't, so the thought thing doesn't work, because that's not what it was designed to do…"

"Umm..." and Ronon got a sinking sensation in his stomach as he looked at the almost black finish. From his suspicious perspective, it looked black, remarkably stick-ish with kind of a creepy, carapace-like quality.

"It's much worse. And before you say anything, there was no way for me to tell what it would do—"

"Rodney!"

"It's Wraith-engineered." Rodney cringed, expecting a negative reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

"Great!" Sheppard's voice pitched an octave higher revealing his stress. "More icing!" and he shot the rest of the McKays a panicked look.

Slippered Rodney started wondering what else was going on with the McKays as he continued. "The shaft doesn't work anywhere but on Atlantis because we have a ZedPM linked into the gate. I think that the Wraith engineered it with a feedback that echoed the gate download and caused the gate to get stuck on rewind. Then it just turned off once it got here."

Ronon Dex stiffened and shifted. "That means it was aimed at us."

"Maybe," Sheppard answered absently as he shifted his focus from the McKays to the shaft. "Or aimed at the ancients, like that locket of Teyla's."

"Whatever! It was aimed at Atlantis and just waiting for my gene and our ZedPM to activate it. The monks probably didn't know what they had — just that it was meant for a gene carrier. I'm working on a math model — well, _me_, but not _me_ personally—" he corrected and shot a glance at the McKays, "to map the anomaly, but since the Wraith are involved with the anomaly, I think this is bad. I mean _really, really _bad!"

"You stopped Atlantis from blowing up," Ronon pointed out.

"I seriously doubt that was their end-game!" McKay sarcastically puffed. "They wouldn't go to all the trouble of deploying this weapon without a reasonable expectation of success! Fortunately, we got lucky it replicated me because, if there is anyone capable of reversing this, it's me." With very little warning, he changed directions. "Why do the McKays all have numbers written on their uniforms?"

"They're waiting for us to realign their priorities," Sheppard growled in Ronon's direction. He grabbed Rodney's arm and waded into their midst with the fourth McKay and the Wraith weapon in tow.

Outmaneuvered, Ronon grumbled and crossed his arms as he watched the first McKay instantly marker a number two on Slippered Rodney before Sheppard could get in between them.

Dex glowered at the multiple McKays and appreciated Sheppard's strategy of bringing certain doom into the equation. The McKays were already starting to look suitably panicked. They hastily scattered in several directions and Sheppard retreated back toward Ronon and the observation deck.

Woolsey, sensing a breakthrough with the outbreak of purpose in the McKays — or maybe it was just that time again — made his way toward the control room across the walkway. He had Carson Beckett with him and Sneakers McKay, who updated them as they all converged toward the balcony for the fifth show.

Sheppard looked more relaxed as he leaned over and rested his forearms on the rail next to Ronon. The colonel had downgraded security since they'd discovered nothing but a blue scientist was ever going to come out of the event horizon. The barricade had been removed from the center staircase and even the soldiers looked more relaxed.

"Well, Rodney, I hear you make quite the Scottish entrance," Beckett's brogue greeted them. "Colonel Sheppard assures me it's a lively show."

"What's Scottish?" Ronon asked.

"_Braveheart_." Woolsey answered. "A movie with warriors that painted their faces blue."

"Warriors, huh?" Ronon smirked at McKay. "Too bad it wasn't an ancient copier. We coulda had a real army."

"Doubtful!" McKay's scathing look didn't explain his reasoning.

"A dozen Ronons? That _is_ useful," Sheppard brightened.

Ronon grinned. "With extra guns."

John straightened up next to Woolsey and added, "Yeah, or extra shields! If we ran across some of those ancient shields, we could send you through for an even dozen. Imagine the possibilities of using the gate as a copier — you know, if there wasn't that nasty side effect of looping time."

Woolsey looked thoughtful. "You know, if we could make it duplicate on demand…" He trailed off as his eyes got dreamy. "McKay's talking some real money in those packs there — not to mention the transportation costs! If we could harness it, our supply and demand would be over."

In the background, Chuck started the countdown and the command staff hardly noticed as they stared down at McKay's growing pile of packs.

Dr. Beckett pointed down at the pile, caught up in the idea of restocking Atlantis' infirmary. "Four ancient scanners. Tha's worth quite a bit right there!"

"Four life signs detectors." Woolsey didn't miss a beat. "Another couple of million, easily."

Sneakers McKay folded his arms having obviously considered this angle earlier. "Four state of the art computer tablets with specialized software. $840,000." He looked at them challengingly when they stared at him. "What? It's my software!"

"Colonel Sheppard's IDC!" Amelia interrupted.

Sheppard smiled and added, "Four military radios, $12,000," right before his voice echoed through the gate room.

"_This is Sheppard. Nobody shoot. We're coming through with a harmless Smurf." _

"Four GDOs." Woolsey smiled. "$3,600."

McKay frowned at them and snarled possessively, "Four 9 mm Berettas, $2,400."

As another McKay stomped out of the gate with his muddied boot right on cue, Sheppard added smugly, "Five blue-faced McKays? _Priceless_."

•

TBC

_Next chapter…_Law of Absolutes


	5. Law of Absolutes

**Murphy's First Law: **"All things work toward decay."  
by Fandomatic

•

* * *

**Murphy's Law of Absolutes:  
**_"Being dead right, won't make you any less dead."_

* * *

Richard Woolsey, commander of the Atlantis expedition, cringed as he viewed his current domain from the lofty balcony overlook of the control room. 'One' Rodney McKay — no, it was the 'fifth' Rodney McKay, which could be interchangeable with 'filth' in his mind — had left those muddy left boot prints across his clean floor again.

Woolsey couldn't abide dirt.

His first call of this event went out to the clean-up detail, a military duty that fell to the most recently disciplined grunt who was getting more than his share of the grunt work in the last three hours. As he requested the work, he included the control room with the little mud crumbles distributed by McKay's drying pant legs, and then his critical eye fell on McKay's problematic footwear — or rather lack of wear in most cases. Combined with the dirt, this bothered him on a basic level that threatened to overwhelm his many conquered phobias.

Woolsey couldn't abide disorder either.

As a fussy dresser, he secretly despised the Atlantis uniform as a necessary evil that he wore with rigid discomfort as an exemplary leader. Seeing the uniform code maligned with such impunity, both soiled and in disordered stages of dress, would have made his hair stand on end — if he'd had any hair.

Instantly guilt-ridden, he glanced at the shock of black hair on his chief military officer, and quelled every instinct in his bones to interfere with the dynamic duo. Never mess with something that works. That was his job, to keep Atlantis afloat and viable — even at the expense of messy and dirty.

He consciously avoided looking at Ronon Dex.

Instead, he cued the screen on his datebook and entered the extra supplies the 'filth' McKay had brought through the gate. While the to-do list was open, he checked in the new McKay for the infirmary and noted with satisfaction that Carson Beckett was already on his way to meet him in the gate room. Protocol had not been broken yet.

Then his eye fell on his number one item to get done: a crisis conference. "Colonel Sheppard, I'm scheduling a brainstorming session in thirty minutes. We need to put all the information on the table and work toward a solution. 1700 hours, Colonel, your team, and the command staff, in the conference room." Mr. Woolsey turned to his number one choice to get things done and added, "Chuck, make sure to get some lights in there." Woolsey entered the neat little entry on his calendar with all the attendees he wanted and sent off the e-mail advisory.

McKay didn't waste time to grumble. "Well, that's going to be a huge waste of time!"

As usual, Richard could count on the colonel's support. "Just think," he told McKay, "you've got four other McKays now to pick up all that important work you're always moaning about when we go on missions or get stuck in meetings."

Sneakers McKay still looked unhappy and he muttered, "I'd rather be working on a solution than explaining the problem to people who won't be able to solve it!" He scratched his face which had bloomed a bright rosy red.

"Rodney."

The familiar warning with no bite made Woolsey smile as he turned to enlist Amelia Banks' help. "Advise Caldwell that I want him at this meeting. He can beam in from the Daedalus…" He trailed off as the solution hit him square in the face. "The Daedalus!" If it was possible, Woolsey squared his square shoulders even more as he turned back in excitement to his staff.

"The Daedalus!" Sheppard straightened, realizing where he was going with this and took a few excited steps closer.

Woolsey fairly beamed with his new plan. "We get the Daedalus to lift the gate out of here and explode it in space!" His staff gathered around Amelia's station.

"Yeah, right," McKay's caustic voice deflated what hope he had. "Already thought of that about … _six_ _years_ ago! It'd only work if it was an _earth_-mover."

"But it worked for the SGC," the Atlantis commander protested.

"I was there!" Sneakers Rodney pointed out and continued as if the next part made perfect sense to everyone since it made sense to him. "Their gate wasn't _malfunctioning_."

"What worked?" Ronon asked as the colonel glowered at the scientist for not presenting this tactic earlier.

Woolsey frowned and his lines on his brow doubled. "The SGC gate was about to blow up the planet so we lifted it into space and let it explode there. So why can't we do that — use the Daedalus to lift out the stargate and detonate it in space?"

Barefoot McKay, with the naked toes, snorted very loudly from the central control consoles behind Amelia. He'd been listening. "Why does everyone point a bomb at something they don't understand?" he asked rhetorically across the room. He held up a sarcastic finger and mimicked, "Oh, I've got a great idea! I don't understand why the gate is malfunctioning and generating a time dilation field, so let's aim more energy at what we don't understand and blow it up! That should get rid of our problem!"

Instantly both of his doubles smirked.

"McKay." Sheppard's tired voice didn't have any heart in it.

Sneakers McKay crossed his arms. "Look, the time dilation field the wormhole is generating is _heavy._ The Daedalus simply won't be able to move it. The wormhole is looping like a magnetic coil and each loop makes the field stronger and heavier. The third McKay is working on the math computations now."

"Sir," Banks interrupted their conference taking place over her station, "Caldwell isn't responding."

Barefoot McKay behind Amelia instantly took the challenge. "On it." He fiddled with some controls which ejected a high-pitched squeal that nailed a new headache in Woolsey's brain before it cut off abruptly. "Just need to adjust for the…"

Resisting every instinct he had to run from the horrid sound, Woolsey approached McKay's station at the central console with his staff trailing.

While McKay solved the communication problem, Woolsey objected to the first McKay's explanation. "But I don't feel any heavier and there is no force pulling us into the gate."

"Well, you won't _feel_ any slower, either," Rodney snapped. "I just said the _field_ is heavy and moving it through our _four_ dimensions, would be next to impossible since it's looping through our _past_." He examined the ceiling for a moment of dumb-down inspiration. "Look, it's like trying to move an apple seed with an ant — only the apple seed's still inside the apple."

McKay's expression dropped in sudden surprise and Woolsey looked up at the ceiling to see if his inspiration was actually visible.

"Time!" He started snapping his fingers excitedly. "The time dilation field… Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Seriously, whoa! The time dilation field!" He turned to another McKay at the next station over, "How about those calculations, Number Three?"

Sockered McKay growled without looking up, "I could use another me if I'm thinking what you're thinking."

"Oh, this is bad, bad thinking," Barefoot McKay muttered from the central control. "I-I-I'm not getting anything."

"No Caldwell?" Woolsey asked worriedly and shot Sheppard a quizzical glance to see if he understood what the McKay's were thinking. He looked as blank as Woolsey felt.

"No, not that," he clarified absently, "Sensors." And he pointed to Banks. "Er, you, uh, can try it now." He exchanged an anxious look with the other McKays.

Amelia Banks immediately spoke, "Colonel Caldwell, This is Atlantis. Please advise us of your status."

"_This is Caldwell," _the colonel's voice filled the room._ "We've been trying to reach you. We're on the forty-fifth floor of the central tower." _A slight huff escaped him._ "We couldn't get a lock with our Asgard beams, so we had to take the long way up. By the way, your transporters are not working."_

In the background, Banks relayed Woolsey's message as Sneakers McKay nervously straightened and stopped scratching. "Uh oh. Sensors, now the transporter beams and serious jetlag…"

"That means…" and both McKays looked at Sockered McKay with stark fear.

Sockered McKay looked up from his tablet with a horrified face that had started to splotch, "According to this, we're trapped."

Sheppard's jaw clenched. "What do you mean trapped?"

Sockered McKay gulped and blurted. "The last loop just exceeded the Daedalus' escape velocity from the time dilation field."

"We're stuck," Sneakers McKay agreed faintly with an equally appalled expression.

Woolsey's wrinkles grew wrinkles at this development. "When Caldwell gets here, we'll consider _all_ our options," he told them firmly. There had to be another way out of this malfunction. There were five McKays on the payroll.

"I said we're stuck!" Sneakers Rodney snarled next to Sheppard with his red rash turning even redder. "_What_ options?"

Sockered McKay picked it up. "Like the-last-meal option?"

"Maybe you'd-like-a-steak-with-those-fries option?" Barefoot McKay added.

"Rodney," the colonel's gentle reminder only redirected the tide.

Sockered McKay slammed his laptop closed and rose from his station to face them. "I don't think you realize how royally screwed we are here! This is why malfunctioning gates don't exist! They spin off into a paradox, only we were counting on the Daedalus to get us clear of the event, but it's too late now! This is the Wraith _shaft_ we're talking about here. We're screwed! It's just a matter of _when,_ not _if!_"

The stunned silence was broken by Sheppard. "Then I guess you'll just have to figure out how to _un-plug_ it."

•

After the McKay doomsday pep talk, Mr. Woolsey retreated to his office to put his life and Atlantis in order. He left Sheppard to deal with the McKays' quitter-talk while he made sure the rest of Atlantis ran smoothly.

His office was hot, stuffy and dark, and only lit by the light of his computer screen. He briefly considered taking off his jacket, noticing that Sheppard had stripped to his tee shirt under the tac vest, but he couldn't shed his formality or his habits so easily.

Woolsey found strength and clarity in the activity of rearranging his calendar and to-do lists. It gave him purpose when the probable outcome of their fate rested with leaving something that worked alone. But the Atlantis team was missing a crucial cog in the wheel, which he intended to right first.

He called Zelenka as he checked off 'get Zelenka back' on his to-do list. It pleasantly surprised him that the Czech was already working on the Wraith shaft with Slippers McKay down in McKay's lab. The professionalism of his staff continually astonished him.

The next item on his list concerned Sheppard and a pressing need for military safety protocols, which could wait until after this crisis.

He quickly entered the growing list of problems to the growing list of things to fix and then turned to something more inspirational, his wish list. He added 'gate duplicator' under 'new McKay budget' and stared at the two with a quiet moment of revelation.

For a moment, he wondered how many needed items would fit into one puddle jumper and if he would feel too guilty to include his personal stash of brandy and Cuban cigars. Surely, with a little incentive, McKay could make a gate duplicator work — if he could fix this one.

It was reason enough to comm Sheppard in for a consultation.

"Mr. Woolsey," the colonel greeted a few minutes later.

"Colonel."

Still in full gear but not packing the P90 anymore, Sheppard flopped into a seat with a sigh of relief and darted an escapist-look toward the control room. "What a day."

"Hopefully not our last." Woolsey didn't know if the escapist-look was aimed at the McKays or his office.

"Yeah, about that, McKay'll think of something." Sheppard rubbed his chin.

"Hmm. Four McKays working simultaneously on gate diagnostics, the Wraith … shaft," he squirmed, not liking the new term, "time dilation theory and gate-time theory, which I'm told could be interchangeable with gate malfunction theory. With so many McKays arriving…, how am I going to explain this ballooning budget expense to the IOA?"

Sheppard blinked and just stared. He swallowed and nodded carefully. "Hmm."

"You know, Colonel, this 'gate duplicator' could diffuse some of those costs — juggle the budget, so to speak — so our supply costs could be redirected toward staffing costs." He paused dramatically.

"Let me guess. You want to shuffle a few of the new McKays onto your pet project."

Woolsey smiled. "This would be a revolutionary technology. Just think … our ZPM shortage would be over and so would our blown budget."

Sheppard smiled back. "While we're at it, let's open an Atlantis bar."

Woolsey's smile faded. "You're not taking this seriously. Coming in over-budget will shut down Atlantis faster than the Wraith ever had a hope of doing!"

"I _was _serious." He crossed his arms. "Don't take this the wrong way, but let's just get through this gate crisis first."

"Of course," Woolsey conceded and turned to the safety of new protocols. "I was merely bringing up future issues, which brings me to the subject of military helmets. Lieutenant Cole sustained a head injury that could have been avoided had he worn a helmet."

The colonel's eyes widened incredulously. "A Wraith snuck up behind him and clubbed him over the head with his stunner!"

"And, had he worn a helmet," Woolsey made his case, "his injury would not have been as severe. I think we should consider helmets mandatory equipment off-world."

Sheppard gaped at him and his hands came down and gripped the chair arms. "If he wore a helmet, the Wraith would have stunned him and dragged him off for supper! But since he didn't wear a helmet, Cole went down, rolled over and shot the Wraith full of nice little holes. That kid has a hard head."

"There are far too many head injuries cropping up to ignore, Colonel. Not having helmets readily available is just reckless. Last week, you yourself could have used one right here when the gate blew up."

Sheppard's astonishment made his voice almost squeak, "You want me to wear a helmet?"

Woolsey smoothed his ill-fitting jacket front. Sheppard wasn't as receptive of his suggestion as he'd thought, but he pressed on relentlessly, "We have safety issues to consider and a safety record to protect. Any kind of head gear would check these rising numbers."

Sheppard looked ready to swallow his tongue as his hazel eyes shot to Woolsey's balding plate and lingered there. "_Any_ kind of head gear?" he repeated, struggling to keep a straight face.

"Well, OSHA-approved, of course — Oh, there's Colonel Caldwell," Woolsey silently heaved a sigh of relief and closed the file on his tablet. No, he wouldn't be opening _that _subject up for discussion any time soon. The threat of bringing his lack of hair into the discussion had effectively killed his enthusiasm for helmets. As Sheppard watched with a bit of amusement left on his face, Woolsey practically ran out of his own office before he could say the dreaded 'toupee' word.

•

Woolsey admired his contribution to Atlantis, the great table in the conference room. The wood glowed under the six torch lamps scattered around the room. It was hot now but a few open balconies were bleeding away the afternoon heat from the tower with the onset of evening. Woolsey opted to leave the conference room doors open in favor of air circulation as Caldwell, Beckett, Sheppard, Ronon, Zelenka and McKay joined him. They could clearly hear the noise from the control room and the atrium below.

Mr. Woolsey noticed that Teyla was missing from the group so he asked Sheppard about her. He answered vaguely that she was occupied but would try to make it.

Ronon bluntly supplied, "She's breast-feeding Torren."

Rodney snapped. "Oh, well, _thank you_ very much for that imagery, Ronon!" Sneakers McKay set down his laptop and refreshed the screen. "Now I won't be able to look at her without thinking about—" he gestured helplessly and snapped his mouth shut as Keller walked into the room with the fifth McKay carrying the fated Wraith shaft.

Woolsey's eyes caught the bright pink bunny slippers on the new McKay. The backless slippers didn't quite fit under McKay's heels but the perky bunny ears flopped provocatively.

"He's wearing your bunnies!" McKay accused McKay and gaped at Keller.

Dr. Keller frowned at his red face. "Of course he is, Rodney. You don't have any more footwear. Have you been putting on that cream regularly?"

While he squirmed, Woolsey quickly tried to get the meeting started and cleared his throat. "As you know, in five minutes, we're about to gain another McKay. We need a solution now." He waited for some of them to sit down.

Sneakers McKay tried to sit next to Keller, but Ronon and Bunnies McKay already claimed those seats. Looking like he'd lost in musical chairs, Sneakers reclaimed his laptop and moved next to Radek Zelenka.

Meanwhile Woolsey continued and had to compare skin tones to pick out the elder red scientist, whose red color glowed all the way up to his shirt sleeves. "McKay, er, the original McKay, would you care to explain the malfunctioning gate." Both physicists were in their shirtsleeves now and barren of labels. Only Woolsey stubbornly wore his uniform jacket.

McKay, in the spotlight and ready to vent, spotted Zelenka next to him. "The malfunction was the unforeseen and direct result of a vicious Wraith attack that was partially nullified by my quick thinking to disengage the ZedPM. Don't let it go to your head," he glared at Zelenka, "but this attack was dependant on proper gate installation, because had it _not_ been functioning with the ZedPM correctly, none of this would have happened."

Zelenka choked and slammed down his metal coffee mug. "Oh, now you blame me for installing gate _correctly_? _You_ initialized it and brought it home, Rodney!"

McKay looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Yes, and if you had been less competent, we wouldn't be in this predicament now, would we?"

"Well, I accept your apology."

"I wasn't apologizing," McKay denied. "This meeting is a gigantic waste of my time because we don't have any time. From the moment I stepped through the gate, we were doomed to witness that moment till we ceased to exist!" The head scientist looked quite upset.

"Rodney," Sheppard interjected gently. "It's not your fault."

"I've doomed us. There's no escape. We're all going to spin off in a paradox so you might as—"

"Rodney!" Sheppard tried again.

The fifth Rodney surprisingly spoke up. "What he's trying to say is that if you all left on the Daedalus when it got here, there was a slight chance you would have escaped into the future. Probably three or four years into the future, but you'd have made it."

"Is that true, Rodney?" Keller's wide eyes met his guilty ones.

Red-faced Rodney glared back at his peachy copy. "Yes. But it was actually impossible to calculate the correct model until the effects were measurable, which was thirty minutes too late, I might add."

The new McKay explained loftily. "There was no way for him to know until the Daedalus landed and he had more than one temporal computation to work with." Their mistake wasn't his mistake.

"Know what?" John glowered. "Just give us the highlights."

Sneakers McKay took a breath and gathered his scathing anger. "The highlights are… Time is slowing to a crawl due to a paradox created by the malfunction and will continue to slow until we are screwed! It's beginning to affect the Asgard beaming technology, our sensors and our communications. We are cut off from the outside world and pretty soon we'll be cut off from communications with the outer piers! We can't reset the gate to dial out. We can't move the gate due to the time dilation field the wormhole is generating, and we can't even achieve escape velocity with the Daedalus now because we're too slow in comparison to how quickly time is speeding up for the rest of the universe!"

"Dr. McKay, is there any good news?" Woolsey ventured tentatively, wondering if he should strike that 'gate duplicator' off his wish list.

"Yes," the first McKay snarled. "Our paradox will allow you to witness the end of the universe in a matter of days. And, well, I would have won the Nobel Prize for proving my theory that malfunctioning gates don't exist because they spin off into a time paradox!"

"Maybe if you stuck to the facts, we could come up with a plan of action…" Caldwell prodded impatiently.

"Understanding _how_ you're going to die won't change the fact that we're all going to die!"

"Rodney!"

Bunnies McKay generously intervened. "Let me take this." At McKay's simmering glare, the last McKay put his Wraith stick on the table. "McKay erroneously compared our time loop to a magnetic coil, with each loop in time making the time dilation field stronger and heavier, based on the echo being reformed each time in the gate. But the cork screw was a simplified model—"

"Oh, please! You would have come to the same conclusion!" Sneakers McKay snapped and the fifth McKay returned his glare.

Sneakers crossed his red arms and took up the lecture. "When I compared the gate to an apple seed inside the core of an apple, I realized our wormhole is shaped like a slinky, but curved because it's coiled around a single, twenty-two second event in our past. As the past curves our progressive loops around this single event, each coil of the slinky is actually overlapping a portion of the same event, creating the echo we're seeing in the buffer and slowing our experience of time. The Wraith shaft didn't really transmit the echo of matter, it locked our stargate's time coordinates in the past which created the echo."

Bunnies McKay nodded and added, "Even though we disengaged the ZedPM, it was too late to stop the time loop since it draws its power from the original moment I, or we, stepped through the gate."

As if on cue, Amanda's voice drifted into the room announcing Sheppard's IDC code. Bunnies McKay hesitated, having never heard the arrival of a McKay yet.

"Having the power creates our current paradox or malfunction. If I had stepped through any other gate, the object wouldn't have been able to draw enough power to generate this anomaly. Because of the ZedPM, our days are numbered."

"_This is Sheppard. Nobody shoot. We're coming through with a harmless Smurf." _

And the fifth McKay shot Sheppard a murderous glare as Woolsey prodded the sudden silence, "Well, how long do we have?"

"A matter of days, but _that_ is irrelevant," he retorted.

Bunnies McKay leaned forward. "Long before the wormhole collides with itself and the gate buffer overloads with a double dose of energy, time outside our paradox will have sped up so much that we won't be able to get off so much as a distress signal."

"Right now," Sneakers McKay snarled and stabbed a red finger toward the open doors to the atrium below, "We're wasting valuable time in a race against time, because each time the gate loops, the effect is multiplied!"

"_What the hell did Radek do to the control room?" _they heard the sixth McKay demand.

Dr. Zelenka's nostrils flared and he glared at his bosses.

•

TBC

_Next chapter…_Law of Exits


	6. Law of Exits

**Murphy's First Law: **"All things work toward decay."  
by Fandomatic

•

* * *

**Murphy's Law of Exits:**  
"_All things are possible except slamming a revolving door."_

* * *

Dr. Radek Zelenka, McKay's go-to-scientist until a scant few hours ago when he was usurped by the second McKay, sat between Ronon and Sneakers McKay at the crisis briefing and fumed at his preempted status that designated him as McKay's personal fool. It usually wasn't so annoying because, as often as his boss criticized, he also sought out his council — until today.

The first McKay had accused him of incompetence that almost killed his team. He'd implied that Zelenka wasn't even capable of taking the ZPM off-line. McKay had even gone to the extent of disconnecting the thing before he realized he'd have to climb the central tower, which made Zelenka's abnormally vindictive heart sing. Then the second McKay accused him of engineering a gate malfunction powered by the zero point module because he'd failed to interface the control crystal properly. And now, the first McKay, instead of admitting he was wrong _again_, shamelessly accused him of creating the perfect environment for a gate malfunction to happen because he'd done his job perfectly!

Radek cherished the small amount of joy he derived from the fact that at least McKay's complexion was burning.

Beet-red and unconsciously scratching throughout his doomsday speech, Sneakers McKay had just finished his full-blown routine of spelling out the certain death they were all about to suffer — or in this case, cease to exist — when the sudden somber atmosphere of the conference room brought the latest McKay's voice from below clearly to Radek's burning ears.

"_What the hell did Radek do to the control room? … And who exactly are you? Let me up there! Er, you there, Pony-tail, where are all the lights? And what happened to the ventilation system? It's like forty degrees in here! What the hell'd Radek do? Un-plug the ZedPM?"_

Zelenka immediately yearned to _un-plug_ every McKay on Atlantis as he pushed his glasses up on his nose and conjured up an image of an innocent ZPM combined with a deadly, dangling live wire and an exceptionally large puddle of water… His eyes widened behind his lenses and his glare turned to excitement.

"The ZPM!" Radek forgot his manslaughter tendencies and turned to the beet-red McKay in inspiration. "We have ZPM!"

"The Daedalus!" both McKays chorused, instantly catching on.

Sneakers leapt energetically to his feet. "If we can get to another stargate, I know how to fix this!"

Bunnies McKay grinned crookedly at Radek just a few seconds behind and included him with, "_We_ can fix this!"

Surprised that his simple solution to get off Atlantis could 'fix' anything, Radek's glasses slipped down his nose again and his eyes bounced between the McKays. But he couldn't fathom what his bosses were thinking.

Sheppard leaned forward along with the rest of the command staff. "You can? You can shut it down?"

"Well, no, that's impossible," Bunnies huffed.

"Use the ZPM to move the gate?" Caldwell guessed.

"Close, but no! Also impossible!" Sneakers looked disgruntled for a moment and then recovered his enthusiasm. "We power the Daedalus with the ZedPM to attain escape velocity from the anomaly! Well, a-thousand-years-into-the-future escape velocity, but that won't matter."

"We're going to need the new McKay to make this work," realized Bunnies McKay and looked at Woolsey expectantly.

"Look, it's a waste of time to send him … me … to the infirmary. I need him now," Sneakers appealed to Woolsey and scratched his neck. "We've got just under thirty-eight minutes to lift off."

"I've cleared him five times already," Jennifer verified tiredly as Woolsey wavered.

"Aye. It is getting redundant," Beckett helpfully nudged the waffling commander.

Woolsey looked briefly constipated and agreed. "Fine. But how is escaping a thousand years into the future going to fix this when we're abandoning Atlantis?"

Caldwell nodded along with Woolsey and added. "First off, the Daedalus won't hold everyone, not to mention we simply don't have the life support for that many bodies."

"Forget the Daedalus and forget Atlantis for a minute!" If possible, Sneaker's face reddened even more. "You're still not getting that there _is _no _'off switch'_ for a stargate malfunction! We are caught up in a _space__time_ anomaly. Look, the gate sends matter from one gate to the next and it always sends it forward approximately point three seconds into the future. Without a reference in time, you can't send matter from point A to point B because point B is constantly moving through space. You have to use time and space to precisely locate any moving body. Right now, the Atlantis stargate is losing its mooring in spacetime by looping into our past. The Wraith shaft affected the _time _coordinates of the stargate, which is possibly the only good news," and Sneaker McKay's crooked grin broke over his red face again.

"We can stop it because we have _this_!" Bunnies McKay with an identical expression of glee on a much creamier complexion grabbed the carved ceremonial stick in front of him. "This is the Holy Grail — well, it's also the shaft from the Wraith, but it's also a programmable time machine when coupled with the power of a ZedPM and a stargate! I mean, this is a solar flare in a bottle!"

Sneakers continued, "We just have to get to a stargate with the Wraith shaft—"

"And the ZedPM with the Atlantis gate crystal," added Bunnies.

"And I can reprogram the shaft to send me back in time to stop myself from returning through the gate." McKay's red chin lifted triumphantly. "End of anomaly."

"You can do that?" Woolsey asked. "You can go back in time without starting this time anomaly all over again?"

McKay's answer bounced back and forth between the two McKays. "Of Course. I'll have to rewrite the Wraith program—"

"Simultaneously set up a shaft interface—"

"Calculate the escape velocity burn—"

"Assemble the portable ZedPM power socket—"

"Cobble together an interface for the Atlantis control crystal—"

Radek cut in, "And retrofit Daedalus for ZPM power socket."

"But there's six of me."

"And me!" Zelenka added a little hostilely.

"And Zelenka," Sneakers amended and scratched his neck.

Beckett frowned. "But what happens to all the buggers trapped here with all the … yous … drinking up all the coffee?"

"Caffeine headaches!" snapped McKay as Zelenka repossessed his coffee mug protectively next to him. "Weren't you listening? Since time is moving so much faster outside this anomaly, I doubt more than two hundred more cycles would pass before all this disappeared. Poof! Never happened," McKay answered. "We only have a matter of days left on Atlantis!"

Bunnies crossed his arms. "Look, the only way to stop this is to stop it from happening in the first place."

Silence greeted his statement

"I'll go." Sheppard volunteered.

"Actually, no," Sneakers grimaced and scratched the back of his hand. "Much as I'd like to let you, the shaft, being gene sensitive, is initialized only to me."

"Well, what happens to the McKay that goes back in time?" Mr. Woolsey asked.

"Ah," Sneakers lifted a red finger. "That's a, uh, paradox."

"Couldn't we send a 'paradox' ZPM back with you?" Woolsey wondered, still enchanted by his gate copier project.

"Er, good idea if we had a spare, but we kinda need it to power the actual trip through the stargate." Bunnies frowned. "But I, or one of me, could take some other Ancient items with us — me. Maybe some stuff from Janus' lab?" He rubbed his hands together thoughtfully.

"And the people that go forward in time?" Caldwell asked.

"Never happened — or never will — once I stop myself from walking through the gate." Sneakers shrugged and scratched his chin. "Anyway, we need to set up operations on the Daedalus, as fast as possible. Our window of opportunity only extends up to the next cycle — even with the power of a ZedPM. Once we gain orbit, our minutes should double as we get further from the anomaly."

"Sounds like a plan." Sheppard leaned back, folded his arms and nodded to Woolsey with a small smile. "And we get roaming with those double minutes."

•

Dr. Zelenka puffed an upward breath of air at his thinning hair in the hope of dislodging the lock from his sweating brow. The limp strand clung in place over the center of his left lense and refused to budge. As he focused on the offensive clump of hair, Radek's crossed eyes unbalanced him and he staggered into the wall with the oversized casing. Too late to correct the misstep, he careened into Colonel Sheppard behind him.

"Easy there, Radek." A hand grabbed his arm and steadied him before he could fall the rest of the way down the stairwell. "You don't want to take the shortcut," Sheppard joked and pulled him to the side of the landing. "Tanner, come take this load off Zelenka. The rest of you find something to carry."

Zelenka heard a "Yes, sir," and the heavy casing lifted from him. Relieved and able to see again, Radek swiped his brow and watched the ZPM casing depart down the stairs, manhandled by one of Sheppard's marines. Behind him, his caravan of scientists had halted on the outside of the stairs as Sheppard's marines passed on the inside and collected their burdens. The noise of their collective boots filled the narrow space with the thunder of elephants.

Not having the use of the Asgard beam was proving to be an exercise in stairs. Currently, they were in the designated 'down' stairwell. Sheppard's marines had relieved Zelenka's team of the parts for the disassembled ZPM power socket.

When the last one passed, Sheppard and Zelenka started after his casing again. "Thanks for the help. I never thought I would be used as pack mule," he grumbled as they turned the next landing.

"Well, you know Rodney," Sheppard offered. "We're moving supplies off the Daedalus to lighten the load. Then it's back _up_ the stairs."

"Yes. Yes, I know Rodney," Radek sighed and grumpily pushed his wild hair back from his face. "I'd like to give him an ego trip _down_ the stairs. 'Good thinking, Radek,'" Zelenka mimicked sarcastically, "'You're in charge of the _ZedPM _power socket since it was your idea.'" He glanced over at Sheppard's amused expression as they quickly pumped down the next flight. "He commandeered me! What he means is, 'go get the power socket out of storage and pack the parts downstairs because that's the heaviest item on the list!' He's got everyone taking something down, except himself, and you know why?"

Sheppard guessed the small Czech really didn't want him to answer that as they turned yet another landing and hustled down another set of stairs.

"Because he is too important to work with minions! That's what he calls us! Minions. Peons. Flunkies. Peasants. Is all the same to him and it doesn't help that there are six now!" Radek took a steadying breath and grumbled. "He only assigned this so he can blame me for it later when it doesn't work. I can hear him now, 'What took you so long? All you had to do was get the _ZedPM_ socket here!' He blames everything on me — if you hadn't noticed. And now there are _six_ of him to find fault." He barely noticed they had reached the bottom of the stairwell.

Sheppard and Zelenka stepped out into the corridor and hurried after the line of marines moving toward the pier door. Zelenka felt the colonel's hand squeeze his shoulder briefly and he looked up in surprise as Sheppard assured, "Don't feel too singled out. Today, we're _all_ pack mules."

Dr. Zelenka straightened in relief as the evening breeze whipped his hair around his face and instantly cooled his skin. Ahead, the Daedalus sat docked with the F-302 bay ramp open to the tarmac. Men moved in lines carrying crates purposefully from her hold. At the head of the ramp, Radek spotted one of his antagonists directing the traffic flow in a pair of bright pink bunny slippers. "Sorry, but lately I've felt this urge to vent six times as often."

"Amen," Sheppard muttered in agreement as the fresh-faced McKay waved them up.

McKay wore his uniform jacket with a '5' written inside the narrow blue yoke that identified him as AKA 'Bunnies.' The number only served to remind Zelenka that McKay-to-the-fifth-power was five times annoying.

The thought cheered him.

"Sheppard," Rodney called out and descended on them in a hurry. "I've got something else for you to do. We've got to move these F-302s out of the bay. Radek, follow me. Your ZedPM socket is already on its way to auxiliary engineering. McKay's already there starting the prep sub-routines."

"I'll talk to Caldwell," Sheppard snorted and preceded Bunnies and Radek through the bay and into the ship corridors.

"We're making good time." Rodney shoved past a second McKay in blue slippers juggling five Wraith shafts and five Ancient scanners in his hands. His face had turned a lovely shade of red that almost matched the first McKay's.

"Hey, Radek," Slippers McKay called over his shoulder as they passed. "Come down to the infirmary when you're through. We could use the help."

"Fat chance!" Rodney answered for him. "He's with me! Go practice your voodoo with Carson elsewhere!"

"Ha! Very coy, grasshopper. Grow up and maybe we'll let you play with us, too!" The older McKay's voice faded as he turned a corner out of sight.

"Anyway," Rodney continued, "we've got about twenty minutes. McKay-the-third gave us as much time as possible to plug and play. If we don't get off the ground by then, we're grounded for good." Rodney flattened against the wall to let a squad of marines pass carrying dead weight from storage and Zelenka joined him on the wall.

Ahead, Zelenka heard Colonel Caldwell's voice rise from the bridge over the tramp of feet_. "Stripped down to its 'nubby nubs?' You mean to tell me the F-302s have to go…? Only 10,000 kilos? What is that, 5,000 pounds or 22 men? That's all we have power for? With a ZPM?" _

The squad passed and Rodney led Zelenka past the bridge bulkhead where Sheppard had ducked inside to join Sockered McKay and Colonel Caldwell in mid-rant.

"_You gotta be kidding me!" _Caldwell's voice followed them down the tight passageway._ "How am I going to pick twenty-two men out of — What do you mean I only have to pick ten? I can't run the Daedalus on a crew of ten!"_

Suspicion rose in Zelenka's mind as he added up the twelve missing crew members. "Rodney, don't tell me I'm going on this mission."

"You're going, so don't try to weasel out of it." Bunnies McKay quickly peered about to make sure they weren't overheard. "Woolsey wants Sheppard's team, and all of me, myself and I to go. I need you and Carson and that makes twelve."

"Rodney, you don't need me. You have six McKays."

"Too true. But six geniuses coming up with the same solution is a bit redundant. I need a fresh point of view occasionally — even if it is radically reckless, idiotic, ludicrous, absurdly bizarre—"

"You had me at 'fresh,'" grumbled Radek before he could rattle off another super-sized insult.

"I was talking about Carson," Rodney smugly deflected any implied compliment and sailed arrogantly through the bulkhead door and into the auxiliary engineering room. His haughty figure was spoiled by the flopping pink bunny ears and his bare heels sticking off the back of the slippers.

Glaring after his escort, Radek muttered after his back in Czech, _"How can I take you seriously with those ridiculous little girlie slippers?"_

Zelenka trailed after his fearless leader and looked around the auxiliary engineering room at three more identical McKays. All of them wore their jackets with numbers and had various footwear issues. Two worked industriously at assembling and installing the portable ZedPM power socket that had a few scattered parts left around it on the floor. The third McKay sat at the central station with more parts scattered over the control panel and he attached conduits to the Atlantis control crystal tray. Bunnies McKay surveyed the amount of work already completed with satisfaction. The ZPM power socket had been designed to reassemble quickly.

The beet-red McKay with a number one written on his jacket glanced up from the half-completed unit and scathingly growled at them, "Finally! What took you so long? Hurry up…" He pointed at a coiled power conduit as Radek picked it up and inserted the end into the casing port. The sixth McKay, sporting a pair of lime green flip flops, immediately tightened the clamping head while Bunnies opened the central panel to access the Daedalus power main. Radek fed him the other end of the connection and grabbed the next conduit.

The vibration and noise of several F-302 engines powering up shook the room as the Daedalus launched its fighters in a desperate measure to save time rather than roll them out. The noise only increased as more engines joined the chaos outside.

They ignored the racket and worked quickly and desperately, fighting every second of the clock to get the ZPM power socket plugged into the Daedalus power main. When the final connection had been clamped into place, the Daedalus had grown silent as it divested itself of its fighter defenses.

"Done!" Flip-flop McKay stepped back with his wrench since there wasn't anything else to attach, except the ZPM itself.

"Done!" Bunnies announced from the open ship panel.

"Done!" Radek grinned and looked at his watch. They had four minutes to spare.

Flip-flop McKay, who had already flipped open the carrying case, lifted the ZPM from its molding and approached the open socket. His green sandals slapped his feet. He firmly pressed the ZPM into the socket and the module lit up on contact.

Radek and the McKays heaved a collective sigh of relief as Barefoot McKay announced from the main control panel, "I have a viable connection. The ZedPM is online and reading at full power."

"We're done!" Sneakers pronounced and tapped his comm. "Colonel Caldwell. We're ready to power up the Daedalus engines."

"_Good job, McKay." _Caldwell's voice returned._ "I'll give the ground crew a minute to clear." _An alarm started to blare over the ship and Kevin Mark's voice started warning the crew to take their stations and seal the hatches for lift off in two minutes.

"Well, McKay-the-third must have done his math homework," a couple of McKays chorused together.

"Funny, I was just about to say that," Flip-flop mused.

"Three down, three to go," sighed Sneakers McKay before it dawned on them that they needed to get some of their collective asses to the main engineering room.

Radek stayed to monitor the ZPM power socket with Barefoot McKay who worked intently over the Atlantis gate crystal tray and moaned about his tender feet.

The lift off and jump into hyperspace seemed routine — except for the amount of energy that drained out of the zero point module to do it. With tension between his shoulders, Radek watched the numbers scroll across his monitor and waited for the burst of distance to hit his screen. According to navigation, they were still inside Atlantis' solar system and creeping out of it at a Mercury rocket snail-pace.

"Rodney!" Zelenka turned excitedly to Barefoot McKay. "The Atlantis solar system just disappeared from our sensors!"

•

TBC

_Next chapter…_ Law of Calculations


	7. Law of Calculations

**Murphy's First Law: **"All things work toward decay."  
by Fandomatic

•

* * *

**Murphy's Law of Calculations:**  
"_If you perceive that there are four possible ways in which something can go wrong, and circumvent these, then a fifth way, unprepared for, will promptly develop." _

* * *

"Whoa! I just lost Atlantis! They just disappeared from the scanners!"

The sharp cry of fear from Weapons Officer what's-his-name (Pen? Skid? Cray? — seriously, someone should assign work stations numbers on this boat) broke his concentration with his rapid calculations toward escaping the anomaly and saving Atlantis. It was just possible the unnerving shout from the All-American-brush-cut skidded his fingers across the keys and brought his complicated asymmetrical flow of calculations to a screeching, jumbled halt.

With a pained grimace of horror, Rodney found himself consulting his _watch_, which was relatively wrong now, for the moment he needed to instruct Sheppard to drop out of hyperspace. So, it wasn't his fault they ended up in the center of nowhere because he had to 'wing it' and rely on Colonel Sheppard's uncalculated quick reflex to respond to his jubilant shout of "We're breaking through the threshold! On my mark, cut the power … in three … two … one … now!"

Grumbling about the drama major that'd ruined his perfect burn with the chaos of mashed keys, Sockered McKay spent the next few minutes pinpointing their position against the stars and distant galaxies. Once McKay III established their position, the next hyperspace jump took them to the nearest Pegasus planet with a gate.

Almost as an anti-climatic afterthought, the Daedalus beam deposited them at the stargate site fully geared with the ZPM socket and the Atlantis gate crystal. The nameless arid, planet proved to be a desolate dust ball worthy of little note other than the ancient ring that squatted among the boulders.

A wicked wind blew through the rocks carrying fine sand that peppered their exposed skin. On the plus side, the wind was cool and the tall boulders around the gate offered a bit of shelter from its sting.

Sockered McKay noted with satisfaction that his team backed the McKays, Beckett and Zelenka. Sheppard had also brought a few marines along to guard their perimeter. One of the McKays promptly shanghaied them and ordered them to drag the ZPM socket over to the DHD while the other McKays started plugging it in, installing the Atlantis gate crystal and working over the Wraith shafts with Beckett and Zelenka.

As Teyla and Ronon joined them, Sockered McKay rocked on his knitted heels next to Sheppard and muttered, "Sunscreen. I should've brought my sunscreen." He rubbed his reddening hands.

With Sheppard's slow turn of disbelief, Rodney would have thought he'd complained about leaving his pet 'turtle.'

"Would you look at this fair skin? It's going to blister with this kind of exposure. It may be fairly nice weather but UV rays are still UV rays, regardless of the current color of my face!"

Sheppard's slow pan of McKay dropped to his black socks that were starting to show abuse.

"Would you stop looking at my feet? It's becoming a little annoying that you feel you have to check which McKay you're talking to. I'm up here," Sockered Rodney snapped. "And, yes, on second thought, boots might have been a better choice of regrets. In fact, if we work it right, I'll never even have to remember regretting yesterday because it won't happen."

Rodney looked sideways at John and Sheppard tilted his head in that way that conceded he had a point. Maybe he regretted the mission, too. But Ronon didn't look chastised at all.

Of course, John ignored the subtext and zeroed in on the mission at hand. "All right, about that, how are you going to do that when we're effectively lost in the future right now?"

"That's easy. We get the time coordinates off the DHD. They all have a … sort of an atomic tracking clock, if you will, that keeps them locked on each other. When the stargate was found on earth, we couldn't make it work because the DHD was missing and couldn't tell the gate the location—"

"Right, we get it, Rodney," Sheppard interrupted. "Look, I've been thinking about this and without risking changing the outcome of the Attero device, you can't go back further than that."

"We could not chance losing you," Teyla agreed.

"It was close," Ronon rumbled.

Rodney nodded. "Not to mention it could change for the worse. I mean, my death during that event would radically change the outcome of this event. What if you initialized the shaft," he pointed at Sheppard, "and walked through the gate. I mean, we'd never have a hope of—"

"I get it, Rodney."

The annoyance in Sheppard's voice only goaded Rodney to bring up their past record without him with more relish. "Okay, after Radek and you blew up the gate room, there was a seven-day suspension of gate operation." He smiled and ignored his own culpability as Sheppard winced nicely and didn't challenge him. "After that comes our window of opportunity. We had four days with a space gate which we used to ferry control consoles back from the Lord Protector's tower. The fifth day we moved it into the gate room and then we gated out to Monksville."

John rested his hands on the P90. "So we're basically stuck with you trying to contact an away team for a ride back in a jumper and the Lord Protector's tower is out because of their space gate."

"Yes. Unless I meet you at the monk's gate and stop this whole experience before it started." McKay smiled smugly. He was going to wipe that torturous, mind-numbing initiation from his mind.

"And who's the chosen one?" Ronon asked.

"McKay VI," Rodney answered. "And before you get all sentimental, it's not actually a bad deal."

"Right. The paradox man." Sheppard nodded.

"Rodney," Teyla hesitated and looked at the others as the teams of McKays broke off from their projects and started gathering around them. "Is there a way for us to go? You will have no protection should something go wrong."

The collective McKays shook their heads and Bunnies answered. "Unfortunately, they're individual-initialized shafts. Whoever holds the stick gets the ride back in time. Once he arrives on the other side," he jerked a thumb at Flip-flop next to him, "the shaft goes completely dormant again."

Sockered gestured at Beckett's team that had joined them with one of the Wraith shafts. "Once he goes through the gate and stops me from stepping through the monk gate, all this disappears." He smiled at the red-faced McKays carrying the ceremonial stick. "Along with my rash."

•

_**Relative Target: Three Days Ago**_

When Sneakers McKay finally handed Flip-flop the reprogrammed Wraith shaft, Flip-flop McKay looked down at his feet. "I want my sneakers back. You don't need them, they'll disappear."

"They're _my _sneakers."

He frowned and snarled, "Give 'em up, Meredith. I can't go in these sandals. I've got blisters the size of a—"

"All right!" Sneakers McKay sat down and started removing his shoes and socks. He grumbled, "You didn't have to call me Meredith."

Flip-flop looked pleased as he sat next to him and dressed his feet. "Anyway, we have enough 'spares' — not counting the one he broke," he looked pointedly at Slippered McKay as he tied off his shoe. "And we have five chances to get this right. What could go wrong? It's a cake-walk, right? Remember the planet? Nice, friendly monks…"

"Geriatric monks," formerly Sneakers McKay snorted and slipped his toes into the flip flops.

Barefoot McKay eyed the sandals enviously and let the backpack he carried slide down next to McKay VI. "I packed a care-package from Janus' lab, so you'll have a few more toys to take with you."

"Um, thanks." McKay VI started to rise and got a helpful pull up from Ronon that quickly set him on his feet.

"Good luck, McKay." The big Conan lightly thumped his shoulder.

"Ow." McKay VI rubbed the spot and Sockered McKay winced in sympathy. That was going to bruise.

"I'll just go … dial the gate," The first Rodney said awkwardly and flip-flopped back to the equipment. Sockered McKay's eyes narrowed as they followed the rest of the McKays bailing out after their duplicates. Suddenly he wished he had something to occupy him on this dustbowl, too. But there wasn't anything to do now that he'd gotten them out of the anomaly.

Meanwhile, Sheppard helped McKay VI into the backpack and settled the strap on his shoulders. He compressed his lips and patted the scientist awkwardly. "Try and stay out of trouble in the future," he added less than hopefully. "One of you is trouble enough."

"What makes you think I'm…" he trailed off as Teyla gently intervened by clasping his arms and she bowed her head expectantly. McKay VI hesitantly touched his forehead to hers and Sockered Rodney rolled his eyes. Couldn't they hurry this up and get it over with? The first McKay had already dialed and the gate whooshed open, just waiting for the tardy sixth McKay to get his ass moving.

"Success, Rodney McKay. We all are counting on you," she said. "I know you will do everything you can to save Torren."

Flip-flop McKay nodded at them mutely as McKay III crossed his arms in irritation. He finally started for the gate when Carson intercepted him halfway there. Rodney's socked toes started tapping the dirt impatiently. Were they ever going to let him leave?

Sockered McKay watched Beckett, the traitor, rip open a pocket and slip the tube of anti-histamine into his tac vest. "They won't need this anymore, but you will. You're starting to blotch a wee bit there on the neck. You best keep using it or you'll be as red as a cherry in another hour." He patted the pocket closed. "Off with you now and good luck to you, Rodney."

Sockered McKay fumed at Beckett and barely heard Radek grumble after McKay VI's back, "Just don't forget it wasn't _my_ mistake!"

"Well, it's been, uh…, real." McKay VI waved at them ineptly with his free hand and then turned to step through the gate with his ceremonial stick.

Sockered McKay realized he probably didn't_ really_ need that tube of anti-histamine as he scratched his suddenly very itchy cheeks and waited for the wave of change to erase him. He rubbed his hands and felt little itchy bumps all over the skin. Yes, he'd be glad when that was all gone.

He scratched his head when they were still standing there a few minutes later after the gate rasped closed and shot a glare at Beckett, wishing that little tube of relief was back in his life.

Sheppard looked at the McKay next to him and frowned. "McKaaay?"

"Well, I thought it would be instantaneous." Sockered McKay shrugged. He started toward the DHD where the other McKays were scratching their heads, too.

"Did the shaft work correctly?" Teyla approached the DHD console along with everyone.

Barefoot McKay checked the ZPM laptop interface. "Yes. According to this, he was sent back on schedule. The power surge from the ZPM confirms it. And I didn't read any power surge on the other side of the gate, so he went back to the past."

"But there's no way to _know_ that," Sheppard objected.

"Yes, there is. The gate was able to shut down." The first Rodney jerked a thumb at the stargate. "With the amount of energy pumped into the buffer on the other side, the gate wouldn't be able to close for thirty-eight more minutes if it was in our time."

"That means he traveled to UR7 in the past," Slippered McKay summarized.

"Well, what happened?" Ronon rumbled.

"I don't know." The first Rodney looked at his other selves. "Look, it's working. He just … must … not have changed anything…"

This might not be as simple as he'd imagined. Suddenly Sockered McKay saw death waiting for him in the past. From the stricken looks from all the other McKay's, they saw the same scenario and he counted himself lucky that they'd agreed to count down in reverse.

McKay-the-first was the only one exempt from their mission because the sixth Wraith shaft lay broken up in the Daedalus. Since he was the one programming them, it had made a lot of sense to send the most expendable McKays first, leaving the first McKay behind to reprogram the sticks.

"Maybe you lost your way in the swamp," Teyla suggested without really believing it, "And we should just wait."

Unwilling to listen to senseless platitudes, Sockered McKay snorted, "What! You think we should wait another thousand years?"

"Rodney." Sheppard glared.

"Well, I think we've waited long enough!" The first Rodney pointedly grabbed a new ceremonial stick from the stack. "Something must have happened to him."

Right. _He _wasn't worried about having to step through the gate.

"Maybe you fell into a sink-hole," Ronon loomed over the first Rodney pointedly.

"Obviously, something went wrong!" McKay snapped. "Give us a minute to come up with a new plan."

•

_**Relative Target: Five Days Ago**_

Sheppard shot Teyla and Ronon a worried look as Sockered McKay huddled with the other McKays gathered around the DHD. A few unfinished sentences later, he knew what he wanted to try next and the group disbanded with added purpose as he returned to his team to fill them in.

"Okay. I've been thinking about this event," Rodney III announced like he'd personally came up with everything. And he had, really. The others just finished his sentences for him. "When I gate in, the gate's going to have the same problem with an overloaded buffer. It won't shut down for thirty-eight minutes." Rodney paused. "Maybe I got stuck on the wrong side of the gate, alone, with no way out while I was waiting for us."

"With the natives? You think you pissed off the monks?" From his expression, Sheppard thought that could be entirely possible. "We never saw anyone around the gate, but Ronon…" He trailed off and shot Ronon a meaningful look as he hefted the P90 in his hands thoughtfully. "Ronon thought we were being watched."

Sockered Rodney nodded. "So this time, I'll get there during Lorne's mission, right before he leaves to bring in Woolsey. That way, I'll have Lorne on my side of the gate when he flies back to Atlantis in the jumper."

Bunnies McKay approached with his Wraith shaft in hand and added, "I'll just hitch a ride home and stop us from ever negotiating with Gerryworld."

"Gerratia," Teyla corrected with her hands behind her back.

"So who's the lucky man?" Ronon asked the two.

"Him." Sockered McKay jerked a thumb at Bunnies. He certainly hoped the fifth McKay had more luck.

"My turn to be the paradox man." Bunnies bounced nervously in his pink slippers and shot dreaded looks toward the gate.

"Just in case…" Sheppard unclipped his P90 on his tac vest and clipped it to Bunnies, whose eyes widened. "The monks warned us about natives."

"The ceremonial stick was supposed to provide safe passage," Teyla reassured. "Make sure to hold the stick up,"

McKay looked down at Sheppard's boots and his bunny slippers. "I'd rather ha—"

"Forget it." John growled as he clipped the last clasp. "You're not getting my boots."

Bunnies face fell and Teyla brought a pair of boots from behind her back. "Caldwell sent down some 'loaners.'"

Sockered McKay grimaced as Bunnies' lit up and immediately started snapping his fingers at him. "I need my socks back, filthy as they are!"

"No! They're my socks! First my anti-histamine cream and now some real boots — even if they are slightly used! He's not getting my socks, too," he appealed to John.

"Rodney," Sheppard nudged him.

"Get your own!"

"Look, _Meredith_, you're not going to need them where you're going!"

Which brought up a theological question that Rodney wasn't ready to delve into so he caved with, "Oh, all right." Teyla rewarded Sockered McKay with a smile as McKay sat down and took off his socks.

Bunnies enthusiastically put them on and bestowed the bunny slippers to McKay III. "You got any arch supports? Lifts?"

Sheppard sighed. "Nobody in the armed forces wears _lifts_, Rodney."

Formerly Sockered Rodney got up and tried out Jennifer's new pink bunny slippers that were soft and collecting dirt on the bright pink fur. The pebbles in the dirt cut into his heels, but it was better than just wearing socks. He tried not to smile smugly at the barefoot McKay who glared at him.

After Bunnies tied his new laces, Ronon gave him a hand up and punched him on the shoulder again. "You better have better luck."

"Ow." McKay V rubbed his shoulder.

"Dialing the gate," Zelenka announced loudly.

"Stay alert this time," Sheppard added helpfully as the wormhole formed.

"Do not stray from the path into the swamp," Teyla advised.

"Don't forget to tell Dr. Keller about your allergic reaction!" Beckett called after him and McKay V snorted. He wouldn't be likely to forget that.

"Well, here goes nothing." McKay V held the P90 ready in one hand and the Wraith shaft in the other as he took a deep breath and stepped through the gate in his borrowed boots.

It didn't take Sheppard longer than a few minutes to announce, "Well, there _went_ nothing!" Sheppard looked around at the four McKays left after the gate rasped shut. "Rodney, something's wrong with it."

"Nothing's wrong with it!" The first Rodney scratched the back of his hands and peered over Barefoot's shoulder worriedly. "He wouldn't have gone through the gate — _I_ wouldn't have gone through the gate — if it wasn't working right."

"It's working," agreed Barefoot.

"It's _not _working!" John growled.

"I know it's _not_ working, but it _is_ working!" Slippered Rodney insisted.

"Obviously, _he's _not working," McKay III grumbled and crossed his arms impatiently. This was not good. He was one McKay away from a trip through the stargate.

"Well? What happened to him?" Ronon growled. "Did he just walk into nothing?"

"Maybe it won't work that close to the center of the time anomaly?" Radek suggested.

The first McKay shook his head. "The center was the Atlantis gate. I only stepped through the Gerriatric gate once." He thought for a moment. "Okay, in case you're right and we can't gate directly there, we can gate back in time to the Alpha site and then gate to Monksville from there."

"What about a test?" Teyla picked up one of the Wrath shafts and hefted it like a bantos rod. "Can you perform a test so we know you have gone back in time?"

McKay III retreated to the other side of Sheppard and wondered, "A test?" His red hand scratched his chin thoughtfully.

Sheppard shoved his ancient scanner into the first Rodney's hands. "Leave this inside the DHD right there." He pointed down at the open panel with the conduits connecting the equipment. "That's the test. If it doesn't show up, it doesn't work and I'm not sending another you through."

"All right. Give me a few minutes to reprogram this thing." The first Rodney pointedly took his ceremonial stick back from Teyla and settled onto a rock. He absently noted as he crossed his green flip flops, "We're going to need another pair of shoes."

"Not to mention some more P90s," John muttered.

•

_**Relative Target: Six Days Ago**_

Sometime later, the entire party had gathered around the DHD again for the third try to change the past and save Atlantis. Barefoot McKay had just finished tying the laces on his loaner boots that were a bit too wide for his narrow feet, but he wasn't complaining at all this time. He was delighted with his boots as he rose and stomped in them. When he was satisfied they wouldn't fall off, he looked around at the group with growing nervousness.

"Okay, I'm ready. We're going to run a confirmation test this time — just in case it fails." He gulped. "Instead of gating directly to Monksville, I'll go back in time to the Alpha site, wait thirty-eight minutes there for the gate to shut down and then gate back here to stash the extra scanner inside the DHD. From here, I'll gate into Monksville right before Lorne gets there the first time and catch a ride home."

The first McKay stuck the scanner into McKay IV's tac vest. "Here's your time capsule."

"Thanks." The fourth McKay glanced at Ronon. "And thanks for the socks, Ronon."

Ronon nodded at him solemnly. "Sorry about the … Satedan … trick."

Rodney's chin lifted. "Well, you couldn't have known it was going to cascade."

"Dial it up!" the first McKay ordered impatiently without waiting another moment.

McKay IV fidgeted as Sheppard clipped another P90 on his vest that the Daedalus had beamed down. "Don't be a hero, Rodney. Keep that head down, stay alive and get the message through."

"In other words, don't screw it up," McKay III offered as the vortex whooshed. Impatiently he tapped his bunny toes and the ears flopped offensively as he waited for the goodbyes to wrap up.

"Yeah, cause you're next," Slippered told him uncharitably as he handed McKay IV the programmed Wraith shaft. McKay III glared at his other self.

"Be careful, Rodney," Teyla added and patted his arm.

Beckett kindly followed him with the same advice about getting medical treatment. "Don't forget to tell Dr. Keller you need the anti-histamine cream as soon as you get back to Atlantis."

Rodney IV straightened his shoulders, held the Wraith shaft high, tried to wield the P90 with his right hand and stepped through the event horizon.

Rodney III tried to calm down as the world remained intact around him. Three attempts had resulted with no change and now it would be his turn to step into the unknown. As soon as the stargate closed he followed after his team gathering around the DHD while Radek crawled almost into the interior and pulled out one ancient scanner. McKay III immediately grabbed it from his hands and blew a layer of dust off it.

"He did it." Teyla's warm smile lit up her face.

"Yeah, but we're still here. Something's not right," McKay III muttered as he cleaned off the screen.

While McKay III activated the scanner, the first McKay complained to Ronon, "You apologized to the other McKay but not to me? I'm the one you shoved into the swamp!"

"Yeah, well, maybe I just liked him better than you."

"That doesn't make any sense." McKay squinted at the Satedan baffled for a moment. "Aw, stop messing with me." He returned his attention to the McKay with the scanner as a wolfish grin spread across the big guy's face.

"Well, what are we going to do? We're running out of shafts, Rodney." Sheppard pointed at the two sticks left.

McKay III looked up and announced, "The good news is that the last McKay set up a date counter on this scanner and the Wraith shaft works as advertised."

"Maybe we're going about this all wrong." The first McKay scratched his cheek. "Let's get around the monk planet and bypass it completely. It might be the gate being tied into the anomaly — I don't think so, but whatever's happening is stopping me from contacting our teams."

"What teams were off world?" Teyla asked Sheppard.

John bit his lip. "Only Lorne's team is reachable. Before the monks, they gated out of G2R-7Y9. That's it. Everyone else was at the Lord Protector's tower."

McKay I nodded. "And that's a space gate."

"Right. No space walks," Rodney III agreed vehemently. He couldn't believe it was already his turn to take a stroll into the past and his stomach lurched. He'd eaten too much thinking he'd never have to step through the portal.

"So what's on G2R-7Y9?" Beckett asked.

Nervously Rodney recalled the reports of idyllic spring countryside with cottages, hedged fences and rolling farmland. He translated that into muddy roads, unschooled peasants, bad breath, and out houses with rampant diseases. He blanched.

Sheppard sighed, "Rumors. That's where Lorne heard about the monks with a power rainbow — the ZPM."

•

_**Relative Target: Eight Days Ago**_

All too soon the first McKay had reprogrammed the second-to-last Wraith shaft, Sheppard ordered up a resupply drop from the Daedalus and Rodney III found himself dressing his feet in used boots that were still a little sweaty from the previous donor. Rodney tried to catch his breath as Ronon helped him to his feet and wished him luck with a light punch to the arm. Then Teyla dropped the weight of the world on his shoulders by mentioning Torren again. Sheppard gave his P90 a last check over and clipped it to his tac vest silently. Rodney could see he was as unsettled by this as he was.

Impatient for the send-off to end, the first McKay tapped his Jennifer-bunny slippers that he'd repossessed in favor over the green flip flops and loudly announced he was dialing the gate. In a daze, Rodney III found his feet carrying him toward the event horizon. The hopeful and worried eyes of the others followed him. He paused next to Carson and the doctor mutely shook his head.

"What? No reminder about Keller?" he demanded.

"You're red as a cherry, Rodney. She'll know wha's wrong with you."

"Oh, right." Rodney faced the active stargate and paused at the rippling surface. He raised the ceremonial stick in a silent salute to his friends which were about to have their lives drastically rearranged by him. If everything worked, he could define this as a nightmare reality that didn't exist. If he didn't succeed, well, he just didn't want to think about that.

"I'll find a way," Rodney promised and with renewed determination, he stepped through the ancient portal. They were all depending on him.

The trip backwards in time took mere seconds to deposit him on G2R-7Y9. The rolling pastures and farmlands were bright under a warm sun and the dirt road extended downward into the valley where a village of sorts haphazardly sprawled across the meadow. A bit of movement caught his eye as people gathered in the streets to point at the activated stargate behind him. Rodney only looked long enough to make sure they weren't headed toward him with pitchforks. He had other plans and he turned to the DHD to make sure he was in the right time.

His scanner told him the gate buffer was close to overloaded, which was a good sign. The DHD revealed more and he puzzled over the meaning of the information as he closed up the panel. The Wraith shaft _had_ worked as advertised. He _had_ returned to eight days prior to the event. That could only mean his other selves had been stopped on Monksville three, five and six days ago before they could undo the damage. He hoped this planet would turn around his run of seriously bad luck.

Engrossed in his thoughts, he picked up his equipment and started off toward the village below where Lorne was due to visit tomorrow. He made the walk without a grumbled word, even though the boots didn't quite fit the back of his heel and kept rubbing against the adhesive tape he'd fortified his skin with. By the time he made it to the group of natives gathered around their native watering well, he was ready to pull off the boot and apply another patch to his heels.

"Hello!" he called out in greeting, well before he reached the group. Teyla usually paved the way for them, but she wasn't here and he was determined to make a friendly effort in order to save his friends. The ten natives dressed in little more than simple rough garments looked innocent enough and probably lacked any formal education. Their suspicion could be attributed to simple ignorance. "I've come from a, uh, long journey through the ancestral portal," he continued hopefully as he stopped in front of their wary faces. "Er, I was hoping to stay and, uh…" Rodney trailed off as the natives surrounded him with guarded expressions. One of them grabbed him from behind and another man seized his other wrist. "Look, you don't have to do that!" Rodney yelped as one of the women twisted the ceremonial stick from his hand which he'd just realized they might consider a club or something…

"He carries the rod," one of the women accused.

_Or maybe not,_ his brain caught up. _Oh, crap! _

"His skin is diseased," another man sneered.

"Oh, no." Rodney's heart sank and he started to struggle too late. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the edge of the Wraith shaft descend swiftly and connect with his temple. The blow knocked him backwards and pain made his world wash out in white stars. He moaned incoherently and felt the fumbles of many fingers riffle his vest and remove his belongings from him. The pounding in his temple abated to a large drum as his stomach reeled to the motion of being lifted and dragged through the streets of the idyllic hamlet. The pounding in his head increased and he felt blood trickling down his face as his senses returned and nausea rose in his throat. His world blurred as the brutes lifted him by his arms up a flight of stairs and didn't spare him from the agony of knees hitting treads or his legs getting kicked as he passed into the dark interior of one of the larger buildings.

His head was on fire by the time they threw him forward into what he thought must have been a brick wall. He clutched his head with one handful of sticky fingers and tried to focus in the sudden darkness of the large hall. People were moving too fast for him to follow so he tried to narrow his field. He barely made out the raised dais that he'd been dumped against and he rolled partially into its shelter. That's when he saw the black boots step into view and his unfocused eyes lifted along the too familiar leather long coat and heard a deep hiss escape from a green blur surrounded by a white fog.

"You will tell me _everything_," the Wraith purred a promise as it examined two identical Wraith shafts in its hands.

"Oh, crap…" At the wavering vision of the two Wraith shafts, Rodney's eyes rolled back in his head as the events of the anomaly suddenly made crystal-clear sense to his buzzing mind, as it would to his doubles if they knew about this Wraith. He had to get a message forward into the future that the Wraith were here and involved. They had one more shot at ending this nightmare, but the only way to get a message back to the future was to lie, convincingly, about how many shafts made it out of Atlantis. At the thought of being 'convincing,' his vision faded and Rodney fainted.

•

TBC

_Next chapter…_ Law of Remainders


	8. Law of Remainders

**Murphy's First Law: **"All things work toward decay."  
by Fandomatic

•

* * *

**Murphy's Law of Remainders.**  
"_War does not determine who is right, war determines who is left."_

* * *

Dr. M. Rodney McKay, the original, grimaced at the last Wraith shaft they had as the stargate shut down once again. He didn't have to look at his only double left to know the panic that lay there just under the surface. Something was not right with their timeline. They shouldn't still exist. This little deserted planet should have rearranged itself without them on it. But nothing had happened again. They were still standing among the boulders, listening to the wind whistle around the monoliths to every side, and hunching their shoulders against the sting of the sand peppering their faces that made it around the wind break.

"It's a _Gilligan_ gate!" Sheppard's voice broke through his worries with typical timing. He gestured meaningfully at their isolated surroundings with the towering boulders and the dry wind stirring up the sand at their feet. "So far, everything we've tried has left us stranded here without a—"

"Colonel!" Teyla's head whipped around and her stance settled and lowered as she searched the boulders. "I am sensing _Wraith!"_

_Something had changed, _Rodney realized as P90s snapped up in reaction to her announcement, _but not for the better._

Instantly on the defensive, the team heard Calwell's voice crackle with static from Sheppard's radio. _"Sheppard, this is Caldwell. We've got a ship dropping out of hyperspace on our scanner — Make that two, no, three ships. Well, is it three or five? — Son of a bitch! Shields up! Return fire!" _

"Rodney, dial the Alpha site!" Sheppard immediately pointed at the gate.

"Way ahead of you!" The first Rodney didn't need Sheppard's prompting. He was already punching symbols to beat the Wraith from dialing in and trapping them.

"You realize we can't let them have the ZedPM or the Atlantis crystal with this Wraith shaft?" Slippered McKay's eyes darted to Sheppard's before he went to work over the ZPM socket. They all knew they were expendable when it came to the time machine. Zelenka belatedly joined in to help disconnect it under the DHD seconds after Rodney finished dialing. The 'Gilligan' gate whooshed open and Rodney dropped down next to Zelenka to pull out the Atlantis crystal tray. As he worked quickly with Zelenka in disconnecting their engineering, he heard Sheppard acknowledge Caldwell and advise him that they had successfully dialed out.

"_Well, that's the only good news because we've got three hive ships on our scanners with a number of cruisers right on top of us! We're not going to last up here. We're trying to keep them off your backs. How soon can you make it through the gate with the … equipment?"_

"Just give me a few minutes!" Rodney felt the ground shake underneath him as a Wraith blast rocked the foundation of the stargate. It was followed by the sounds of harvest beams, weapons fire and Wraith darts buzzing overhead. The boom of pulverized rock filled his ears as the air filled with an instant dust cloud and raining debris. The staccato sounds of P90 fire echoed between the boulders. Zelenka's wide eyes met Rodney's under the DHD and they started pulling connections with massive yanks and little regard for the damage they were doing to the DHD. Another part of his brain analyzed that as a good thing. He heard Sheppard curse as he ducked down next to them and yelled back into his radio.

"We're taking fire from Stargate north! We've got dart activity!" Rodney felt Sheppard's hand tugging at his sleeve as he pulled the crystal tray free of the DHD. "Rodney, we have to go!"

"No kidding!" Rodney wiggled out with Zelenka and he could hardly believe the amount of choking dust that blew through the air. He could hear the growing thunder of distant fire and the pulse-pounding drum of a Wraith ship passing close overhead. Ignoring the cloud of debris, it fired in a search pattern in an effort to take them out with massive measures. The blasts and thrum of their engines steadily grew louder as he staggered to his feet next to Sheppard and Zelenka.

"Zelenka! Beckett!" Slippered McKay waved the scientists over to the socket and prepared to lift the rear corner of the sled that housed the ZPM. Rodney tucked the crystal tray inside the coiled conduits packed around the ZPM casing and grabbed the lead corner. The last Wraith shaft had been shoved into the mass of coils and its flowering tip stuck out like a torch. Together, with Beckett and Zelenka taking up corner positions, the four started walking their dismantled time machine toward the active gate under the cover of blowing dust.

Behind, he heard Sheppard calling to his team to take up positions defending their retreat through the gate as the sounds of explosions grew ominously closer. He vaguely realized his earpiece wasn't working as the confusion of the scene washed over him. Brief flashes of light reduced to glowing sheet-lightning marked the distant landscape of towering boulders. Distant booms and more immediate concussions of energy threw up a veil of dust and rock that rained steadily from above and choked the area.

A Wraith blast pulsed just east of their position and the explosion of rock ripped into the rock monoliths ringing the gate. As the spray cut down two of Sheppard's marines, Rodney looked ahead toward the blue glow that marked the position of the gate and looked at Beckett in panic.

Beckett's jaw set in determination. "Go on without me!" He dropped his corner to run toward the injured marines.

"Carson!" Both McKay's protested and then watched him go.

It was almost surreal when Zelenka moved forward to take up the slack and doggedly picked up their pace. Another boom split the air around them and Rodney felt his burden sag behind him. A glance back revealed another deserted post and he couldn't locate his missing double in the haze of confusion. Rodney shifted his hand back to the corner and met Radek's shocked eyes above his slipping glasses. Feeling a bit like a pall bearer, the two stumbled on the last few feet toward the beckoning event horizon and safety. Just before they lurched through, Rodney glanced back again at the vague forms shifting in the dust storm and heard the familiar P90 fire along with Wraith ground fire lighting up the sheltered enclosure. The Wraith were closing in.

The step onto the forested Alpha site greeted them with cold silence that contrasted sharply with the chaotic confusion they'd left behind.

Rodney and Radek carried the ZPM socket between them with a vapor trail marking their panting breaths and their feet cutting a path through the thin layer of snow covering the ground. Each step cut a perfect, wet boot print — or in Rodney's case, a slippered print — leaving the ground wet and exposed with icy crystals. Rodney's heels touched the wet layer and he could feel the cold soaking into his toes through Jennifer's bunny slippers. As they set down the power socket gratefully, a Wraith blast tore out of the event horizon and singed the conifer tree trunks behind them. The next bolt that ripped past them into the trees spurred them into action. Rodney's bunny ears flopped crazily as he raced Zelenka for a prime spot behind the DHD.

Shoulder to shoulder they huddled behind the safety of the ancient console. Hearing the gate eject another body, Zelenka rose eagerly before Rodney could yank him back. In horror, Rodney heard a Wraith blast and watched it knock the little engineer backwards. He fumbled with his sidearm and it finally cleared his holster as his eyes riveted on Radek's crumpled body. With his gun shaking and extended, he took a quick peek around the base at a Wraith drone advancing toward him. The drone's masked head swiveled and zeroed in on his movement. The Wraith rifle started to rise and Rodney blindly started firing everything he had.

The bullets did little to slow it down. He may have missed most of the target area because he was trying to hide ineffectively behind his 9mm and shoot at the same time. He couldn't see the drone and his only weapon ran out of ammunition without even putting a dent in the Wraith's advance. He looked at the open slide with horror and squeezed his eyes shut.

Behind the drone, the gate pumped out five more team members. The welcome sound of Ronon's gun discharging brought Rodney's eyes open with relief. The Wraith drone jerked and sprawled into the snow face-first. It didn't move.

"Oh, thank God," he breathed out and lowered his empty gun that he'd been cowering behind.

"Shut it down, Rodney!" Sheppard's voice brought Rodney back to life. He reached over and slapped the reset and the event horizon winked out with a gasp.

The immediate silence of the forest only served to emphasize his shock as he took in the sight of his wounded team leader. Sheppard held his side as the blood seeped around his fingers while Carson half dragged, half carried him to the DHD. Beckett had blood up to his elbows, but none of it looked like it belonged to the Scottish doctor. He eased Sheppard down and unzipped the tac vest. He worked quickly and had Sheppard's side exposed in a matter of seconds before he started unwrapping field bandages in an attempt to staunch the flow.

Teyla limped along supporting Slippered McKay, who would've looked white as a sheet if not for the red rash. An open head wound poured blood into his eyes, blinding him, and he clutched a bloodied arm that slowly dripped into the new snow all the way to the console.

Ronon took one look at the downed Wraith and holstered his gun with a showy twirl. He checked Zelenka's form and grunted at the stunned engineer.

"Where's everyone else?" Rodney's breath caught as he already knew from their grim expressions.

Teyla shook her head and let McKay's double sink down next to Sheppard who had closed his eyes. "They did not survive the rock explosion," Teyla supplied. Slippered McKay's expression sickened as he caught an unguarded glimpse of Carson's work and squeezed his eyes shut. As Teyla ripped open a bandage for Rodney's double, Rodney silently agreed with him that it was better not to watch Carson doing his voodoo.

"But what happened to the Daedalus?" Rodney touched his ear piece that had stopped working in the midst of battle. None of them would meet his eyes.

"We don't know." The colonel's voice came out strained. John's eyes opened and he ignored Carson patching up his side to look straight at the original McKay. "We've been set up, Rodney!"

Even hurt, Sheppard couldn't avoid the obvious and Rodney barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "I got that when the Wraith showed up." He grimaced at Carson's dressings. "Is he going to be all right?"

"Aye," Beckett nodded easily. "I kin patch him up."

"Well, what about me?" Slippers' caustic voice interrupted. "I'm dying over here with multiple _dire_ wounds bleeding out a goodly portion of my bodily fluids and Xena, here, isn't equipped to handle this!" He pointed at his head which Teyla dressed with a sharper yank than necessary. "Ow! We're talking about my _brains_ here!"

"Well, it's not like we donae have a spare, Rodney," Carson reminded pointedly and kept working over Sheppard.

The grin forming on John's face instantly twisted into pain and he shifted against the DHD. "Don't make me laugh," he gasped.

"Anyway, _he's_ the spare," Rodney grumbled as Ronon knelt next to him in the snow.

The former runner glanced at the gate and the wounded men uneasily. "We need to move. The Wraith will follow us."

The first Rodney grinned crookedly. "Not without this," he pulled a DHD crystal from his pocket. "The Gilligan gate is broken. They can't trace us and they're not getting off that deserted planet through the stargate." He waved the crystal triumphantly before he stashed it back in his pocket.

"Nice," Sheppard smiled and closed his eyes again.

"Well, you gave me the idea when you called it a 'Gilligan' gate. I thought it'd be nice to give the Wraith nowhere to go, uh, after us when the gate shut down, anyway."

"Aye, it's very nice, Rodney," Beckett agreed warmly.

The Satedan's eyes came alive with a determined flicker. "The Wraith have been behind this all along."

"You think?" The spare McKay snorted. "Even with my brains leaking out of my skull I can see we've been going at this all backwards! The Wraith started this on G2R-7Y9 where they captured me — well, not me but one of me!"

Rodney winced. "Yeah, McKay III obviously tipped them off. How else did they find us in the future? He _squealed_. They know about us. They know about the monks. McKay III told them _everything_!" His bitterness filled his voice. "He was the beginning of this whole series of mistakes. We've been going backwards in time right up to the moment he spilled everything! That's how they found us — he told them where and when! He was even carrying the 'Gilligan' scanner as proof!"

The spare McKay's shaking hand scratched his cheek unconsciously and his eyes mirrored Rodney's bitterness. "He probably even told them about the ZedPM rumor that took Lorne to Monksville."

The first Rodney's jaw slackened with new insight. "Oh, God. What're the odds of there being _five_ Wraith shafts in the temple?" He looked straight at his double's dismayed eyes.

"Four of mine and one Wraith shaft…" Surplus McKay agreed.

Then Rodney's eyes fell on the last Wraith shaft poking out from the coils of the ZPM power socket. "But they tipped their hand too early," he realized with growing hope. He sprang up from the ground and pulled the shaft from the sled. "That's why he squealed! Don't you see? He knew it wouldn't change anything except the Wraith jumping the gun because they think we're out of Wraith shafts! We have one chance left. They don't know when or where I'm going from here!" Just as suddenly his elation drained from his face. "Oh, crap. That's why they painted me blue!" He looked at his red hands holding the last Wraith shaft in shock and sank back down to the ground next to Sheppard and Beckett.

Teyla's eyes widened and she met Ronon's narrowing eyes. "It was a recognition signal," she agreed.

"Yeah, don't mess with the real McKay!" Rodney's shocked face turned to Sheppard's sickening expression. His stomach twisted in horror at the fate of his doubles. "They knew we'd try to change history, so they stopped anyone carrying a Wraith shaft that wasn't blue."

"None of my selves made it," whispered Slippered McKay. "I mean, look at me! Look at _him!_ I'm red!"

"They even told us it was safe passage to the gate," Ronan rumbled ominously with the promise of violence in his eyes. "They're _collaborators_."

"Or Wraith worshipers," whispered Teyla. "But I did not sense any Wraith when we were there."

Rodney glanced at her with sorrow. "They probably knew you could sense them." He looked down at his red hands in shame. "Squealer, here."

"The blue paint, Rodney," Sheppard gasped out. "That's your passage back. They won't stop you if you've got on the blue paint!" He paused to draw in a shallow breath. "You go back to day one as Smurf boy and meet up with us on the way to the gate."

"Easy there, Colonel," cautioned Beckett.

Sheppard ignored the doctor and motioned for his tac vest where Carson had tossed it near Teyla. She handed it to him and he opened a pocket. "Rodney, you've got to go back and destroy _all_ the shafts!" He took out a brick of C-4 and a detonator and shoved it into the physicist's red hands. "We'll be there to back you up."

Rodney nodded hesitantly.

"You did good, Rodney," Sheppard assured. "We got the message, loud and clear. This time, you're going to get to us in time." His lips tightened at McKay's uncertain expression. "Look, McKay III didn't change squat. He just made the Wraith tip their hand too soon." John held McKay's eyes and repeated, "You did good, Rodney."

•

_**Relative Target: One Day Ago**_

Dr. Rodney McKay, astrophysicist and chief science officer of the Atlantis expedition, felt utterly foolish again as he stepped through the event horizon and his borrowed boots sank into the cushioned dirt that was Gerryland or Gearamania or Gerital, but might as well have been known as Dagobah. He was pretty certain he cut a silly figure as a blue Smurf squashing through the misty swamps again with his stupid 'ceremonial' staff, which he hadn't considered 'stupid' or simply 'ceremonial' since the arrival of McKay IV. Two steps into the Monk Marsh and he was instantly assailed by flying swarms of stinging, buzzing insects that were bent on burrowing into his ears or sucking his blood from his neck again.

He swatted them away with flailing arms and restrained himself from cursing aloud. The swarm followed him as he set off along the raised path and into the cover of the tangled growth of swamp trees.

Behind him the gate shut down with a rasp as Sneakers McKay picked up his pace. That was one exit that was open to him now, but he resolved not to use it. He hadn't gated directly back since the timing had to be so precise. With only an hour to spare, he was cutting it close, but this time he was going to stop 'himself' in time. Everyone was depending on him. _Sheppard_ was depending on him.

At the thought of Sheppard's deathly pallor, Sneakers McKay grimly refused to go there and turned his mind back to immediate survival and getting back to his team in time.

As he hurried down the raised road, the swamp swarm buzzed him happily and zeroed in on the bright blue moving flower. They must have had some kind of communication that called their friends over for a happy meal because their numbers started to multiply again.

With a muffled oath, Sneakers pumped his arms and spotted the oozing slime just off the path that Teyla had smeared over his neck. The black stink bomb seemed to seep from every tree trunk root system — at least, he hoped it was plant-based as he scooped up a glob with his nose pinched closed and coated his own neck with the pasty nasty.

The bugs didn't like the black muck either and they fled the scene of the crime. And it was a crime, an assault against his senses. The tarry substance stunk when its wet interior was exposed to the air. The slime oozed under his collar and immediately started chaffing at his skin. He continued to breathe through his mouth from experience. The intense stench from his neck caused nausea, but it wouldn't last long as the surface muck resealed itself relatively quickly as it released the stink-bomb effect.

At least the blue face paint on his face and hands didn't itch this time, but only because Carson had laced the paint with some sort of numbing concoction that deadened his nerves in his skin so he wouldn't scratch. Teyla and Ronon had collaborated in making the abominable blue mixture and his careful interrogation revealed it contained no deadly toxins. That 'no deadly' part worried him as he hurried on to his rendezvous because that left all the nuances of discomfort open just under fatal. Ronon wasn't too particular that way.

The distant sound of beating wings brought his attention back to the bog where an unseen bird took flight. The raised path he followed wound around massive trunks and through large pools of mud with barely a coating of water smoothing their surfaces. Reeds strangled the open mud ponds and dinosaur vines with elephant leaves choked his view between the trees. Mists and vapor rose from the cesspool and his brain, unbidden, listed the various deadly gasses likely to cause such a phenomenon. When his eye caught the slow movement of a snake, he forgot to pant and inhaled sharply through his nose in sudden fright.

His stomach rebelled from the stink bomb. Again.

He retched uncontrollably into one of the vapor pools where the surface bog wasn't even visible. With his deadly surroundings forgotten, he emptied his stomach until he had nothing left. The nausea passed and he rinsed out his mouth with a wash of canteen water and spit into the reeds.

Miserable, he resumed his pace into the marsh and soon reached the shallow lake with the land bridge laying a straight path to the far shore. He could see the far edge of the open swamp that was sparsely dotted with wading swamp trees. The road was swallowed up immediately by the primordial growth at the far side of the lake. In the center of the lake rose a rocky island connecting the land bridge. It offered safety and seclusion from all approaches. Ronon had assured him he could hide on the sloping rise of the island where it overlooked the land bridge to the stargate. He had squeezed his shoulder and rumbled, "Trust me, it's the perfect spot to get to us."

At the thought of Ronon, his eyes sought out the cesspool at his feet that was responsible for half his misery on Gerryterrible. He couldn't distinguish between the mud holes and determinedly hurried past the spot toward the island, intent on putting the muddy boot behind him. He would at least stop _one _misstep on this journey.

When he crossed the first land bridge, he searched the abrupt face of the island and found Ronon's description of the dry roost overlooking the raise road was accurate. The plants and overgrowth camouflaged his sitting form against the rock around him and he leaned back in his dry perch to wait.

The view toward one of many missteps pulled him unwillingly back into memories he'd rather forget, memories of humiliation at the hands of wrinkled old men — memories that were occurring to his double on this planet as he sat there waiting…

•

For the chance at getting a ZPM, Dr. Rodney McKay had swallowed his irritation with the induction ceremony that had turned into a marathon of tolerance. His lack of venting had simply increased the explosion to come as he stored up his grievances against the foolishness he was forced to endure before they brought out their final test.

The 'gene test' proved to be an ancient scanner.

Suffering with biting comments that longed to be unleashed, he bit his tongue and let the wrinkled old men paint him blue for his entrance into the inner sanctum. The final reveal had been so crushingly disappointing, that he'd accepted the stupid stick with the sole intention of leaving with what little dignity he could. And then they'd displayed him like a prized possession and paraded him around the walls of the monastery. He clutched the ceremonial stick like a deposed king and his expression dared his team to comment on his appearance — especially when the monks had assured them that their safe passage to the gate hinged on him carrying the ceremonial staff with his blue paint. Evidently, they'd spotted hostile natives in the area and they only honored the blue badge of the monks.

His brooding exit from Monksville hadn't exactly lasted out of earshot as he reacted to Sheppard's 'Blue boy' and the valve came unstuck with the first of many snarls, "That's so _not _funny!" And he poured out his heart to his team about his personal misery and the injustice of the Pegasus Galaxy that rewarded heroic actions with humiliation and misery. Once started, the avalanche didn't abate. Rodney had _days _of acid to release and he was focused.

He'd completely ignored the warning signs his team gave him. Sheppard was the first to bail. He abruptly rearranged their usual marching order and took point. Ronon wasn't happy about it and resisted the order right in front of him.

"They're still watching us."

"It's not like they're going to miss us coming, now is it?" Sheppard looked pointedly at McKay batting the flies away and added meaningfully, "They're keeping their distance."

"If McKay kept quiet, they'd have to move in." Ronon Dex flexed his fist and his body language spoiled for a fight, but he was always spoiling for a fight.

Sheppard enunciated each word as he glanced between the two men, "I _like _distance." Sheppard definitely didn't want Ronon sneaking up on a native and starting anything. It was a testament to his misery that Rodney ignored the comment aimed so squarely at his whining and actually agreed with Sheppard.

"Well, I'd _like_ a little distance from these swamp flies. The nasty things seem to think I'm lunch. Can we move out, please! I'd like to get this prickly paint off me as soon as possible and that's not going to happen if you dawdle here in Geriafrica!"

"Gerratia," Teyla patiently corrected, missing his witty comment completely. She was the next one to bail out, but she lasted the longest in his company. His cranky analysis of insect-carrying diseases as the bane of mankind, followed by moaning for an insect repellant and slapping his neck silly, on the heels of complaining about what the blue paint was likely to do to his fair skin, finally broke her cool resolve.

Teyla rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Rodney, do you wish for a cure so the bugs will stop bothering you?" Her tone sharpened.

"What? Have you been holding out on me? What cure?"

"This." Teyla took a step toward the swamp and scooped up a glob of black ooze. With horror, Rodney watched the glob of swamp slime coming toward him. Despite Rodney's stuttered protests, she'd smeared a good portion on the back of his neck. Immediately, Sheppard, the traitor who'd done nothing to stop her, covered his nose and started laughing.

"Oh!" Rodney gasped and pinched off his blue nose. "Oh, oh, oh, oh!" His eyes widened. "Oh, I think I'm gonna be sick," he moaned.

"It is best to breathe through your mouth while the marshroot oil releases the 'repellent,'" Teylas spoke with a nasal tone. "It will not last long, and the swarm has already left."

"It's repellant, all right," Sheppard agreed. "I'm repelled." And he backpedaled further away.

McKay's eyes started watering and he retched. Unable to hold it down, he took two steps toward the swamp and lost it over a mud puddle.

"So how long do we have to put up with … the stench?" Sheppard asked as Rodney heaved.

"About fifteen minutes," Teyla answered. "It tapers off quickly."

Ronon grunted in disgust. "Now they can smell us coming, too."

"This is worse than the flies!" Rodney choked out and fumbled for his canteen while he spat out his fury with a nasal venom. "Did I ask you for a cure? No! I asked what kind of cure you had! I thought you might have had the foresight to bring a can of _Off_ to a swamp! I don't want any more of your kinds of cures — no thank you! Not if it involves smelly slime being placed on parts of my anatomy that are best left unsullied and free of chaffing!" He ended his outburst with a swish of water and spit his rinse into the muck.

"Did the bugs stop biting you or not?" Teyla asked reasonably.

Rodney resealed the canteen and glared without fear at the Athosian that could take him out without breaking a sweat. "Yes, yes they did, but it doesn't change the fact that my anatomy is not to be used as your personal finger-painting project, despite the fact that I've been painted this lovely bug-attracting color — for your protection, I might add!"

"All right," Sheppard intervened. "We're not going to forget you're a delicate flower, Rodney." He turned to Teyla. "Why don't you take our six." Sheppard returned to the business of taking point and left Rodney to follow Ronon.

The Satedan didn't hang around him very long. Ronon came and went like a ghost into the paths of the swamp until he was forced back to Rodney's side to cross the land bridge. He walked silently along the road next to Rodney, who spewed his misery to anyone that would listen, and occasionally shot him glowering looks. As soon as the island rising out of the swamp grew near, Ronon grew scarce until he was forced back to McKay's side to complete the crossing of the shallow lake.

To Rodney the blue paint had felt like it was starting a pin-cushion convention on his cheeks. A sensation of prickly tingles was cause to worry in Rodney's book and Rodney never held worries in check. At least the intense smell of muck on his neck had abated. He no longer had to breathe through his mouth and was free to let his imagination and mouth wonder over the long-term effects of an unknown toxin.

As they approached the shore of the lake, his brain had just pictured a vivid scenario where his skin absorbed the toxin, turned a permanent blue, and he expired without enough time to shed the color before his own funeral. He was just getting wound up on his new tirade and had predicted a closed-casket funeral when the sensation in his cheeks prickled for attention. Rodney ended the monologue with a comment out of the blue. "God, this paint is starting to tingle in a really annoying way!"

Ronon, who hadn't said two words or more the entire way, chose that moment to respond. "If it bothers you so much, I know a trick to take your mind off it."

Rodney immediately doubted the Satedan's words. How could that excuse for evolution _ever_ come up with something that could distract _his_ mind from the facts. "I'm all ears, Conon. Please, do tell how my sizable mind can be so occupied as to forget the facts when I'm experiencing sensory overload here between getting painted up like a blueberry tart and slapped with the galaxy's odiferous prize for rotten muck?" He eyed Teyla behind him pointedly. She was just clearing the land bridge and following them back into the swamp.

"Forget it."

"Forget you mentioned it or 'forget it' with 'it' being this complete waste of time spent in a futile posture of meditation that has made every muscle I have scream in agony? How can I simply forget it when every step is excruciating pain? And to have it all end in a humiliating ceremony where Geriatric monks paint me up like a blueberry just to allow me passage into the interior chamber to see the ancestor's collection which amounted to what? Zilch, that's what! A giant-sized zilch where I am presented with one of many crappy ceremonial sticks," he waved the staff meaningfully, "and paraded around the grounds like a blue-ribbon—"

And that was when Ronon casually nudged him off the path and knee-deep into the mud with an innocent, "Oops."

Rodney's boot sank lower into the bog and Ronon, just as casually, grabbed his arm with the ceremonial staff to keep him from following his misstep with another one off the path. "Careful there."

"You…" Rodney pulled his foot loose and a massive amount of mud followed his leg out of the pool. "Damn it! Watch where you're going! Look at this! I'm soaked to the knee with _slime!_ Geez! Now … aw … this, this really sucks!" He surveyed his leg that was now twice its normal size, layered in goop, with dismay. "My foot's soaked and my boot's wet…" Rodney took a few steps and felt the slime ooze between his toes as the boot squished loudly under his weight. "I can feel the slime between my toes, Ronon! This really, _really_ sucks. No telling what billions of bacteria live in that brackish water," Rodney muttered and looked at the three with dawning horror. "We're not even _close _to the gate! Trench foot, athlete's foot, blisters, impetigo, take your pick! I'm evidently the main target of the universe today! I'll be lucky to keep my leg!"

Thud. SQUISH! Thud. SQUISH! Rodney was appalled at the sounds emanating from his feet.

•

TBC

_Next chapter…_Law of Reflection


	9. Law of Reflection

**Murphy's First Law: **"All things work toward decay."  
by Fandomatic

•

* * *

**Murphy's Law of Reflection:**  
"_There's never time to do it right, but there's always time to do it over."_

* * *

The even tread of footsteps broke through Sneakers McKay's memories and the events of the past faded from his mind.

The footsteps belonged to Sheppard, who approached his position. Like a ghost, Ronon appeared on the path out of the island swamp and Sheppard stopped at his sudden appearance and waited for the Satedan to join him. They exchanged grimaces and glanced back down the trail toward a whining murmur emerging from the tangled growth. Sneakers followed their eyes in the direction toward his double's disembodied voice, and the relief that flooded through him at the welcome sight of his team almost overwhelmed him.

"He's gonna get killed." Ronon glared back in the direction of McKay's whining voice. Ronon's angry rumble stopped Rodney in his tracks. Dex had gained his undivided attention.

"It's less than a click to the gate. If they're gonna attack, they'd ambush us on this land bridge. It's clear, right?" Sheppard's voice carried clearly up to Rodney's perch.

"Yeah, they're behind us."

"Then stick to McKay until we clear it." And Sheppard pointed toward the subject.

"I meant," Ronon's fist balled, "if he doesn't shut up, _I'm_ gonna kill him."

John paused. "Well, don't. He's just blowing off a little steam."

"Then let me take point."

"_After_ … we cross the land bridge." John rubbed his neck. "Look, you've been spoiling for a fight ever since we got here. I don't know what's going on, but I can't have you starting anything with the natives. So until you get your head in the game, you've got the middle."

"Maybe I'll just blow off a little steam, too," Dex growled. "And see how _he_ likes it."

"Fine." Sheppard agreed. "You do all the steam blowing you want, but no killing — unless we're attacked."

Ronon scowled. "I know a great Satedan joke that'll take his mind off his troubles."

"Just one?" John raised his eyebrows and smiled. "I don't think McKay's gonna appreciate any humor right now. Just what is going on with you, anyway?"

Ronon's scowl deepened as Rodney's voice grew louder with his approach, breaking the stillness of the swamp. "He doesn't have anything to whine about!" Dex burst out and pointed down the path at Rodney.

John shrugged. "It's _McKay_."

"Yeah? Well, he didn't get dumped!"

"Oh," John rubbed the back of his head. "And you … did."

But Sneakers didn't hear anything else he said because his heart was singing.

_Jennifer dumped Ronon! _Who else could Ronon mean? Like a dark cloud lifting from a sunrise, his smile broke through and washed out the events leading to this moment as so much insignificant chatter. Jennifer had chosen, Ronon had lost, and he had _won — _he justhadn't known it. Suddenly, Ronon Dex's words, "Trust me, it's the perfect spot to get to us," took on a new meaning. A happy smile curved upward on his face as he realized Dex had given him the perfect moment of introduction.

The moment was disrupted by the equally sour disposition coming from his lucky double, who was so engrossed in his own selfish misery, that he couldn't see the miserable barrier he'd encased about his soul to protect it from heartbreak. Teyla trailed a few meters behind him and ignored the tirade, stoically.

"Oh, God!" the double moaned, "I'm the walking poster boy for death by skin absorption! Did you know the skin has a remarkable ability to absorb chemicals and my pores could be soaking up the toxins as we speak! What if it doesn't wash off? What if they used something that dyes you blue permanently? Besides absorbing the color, I could potentially be poisoned, too! This could be their ultimate revenge. 'Sure, we'll let you go so you can die horribly later!' That's what they're thinking. I never trusted them. There was something undercurrent between them the entire time I was in that monastery alone with them. Sure they let me in — just to expire later!"

"_Wait_!" Sneakers shot out of hiding and barreled down the side of the hill along the narrow path. "_Wait_!"

Rodney broke out on the road in front of his team who'd snapped their weapons up in surprise at his sudden appearance. Just as surprised at their reaction and his stupidity for surprising well-armed soldiers, he dropped the Wraith shaft and his hands shot up. "Don't shoot the Smurf!" he squeaked and was immediately horrified that he'd coined Sheppard's term.

In shock, his team stared at his blue face and the ceremonial staff at his feet. The four lined up and looked at him with astonishment as Sneakers McKay tried to recover his dignity and deliver his message from the future which he fervently wished hadn't started out as "Don't shoot the Smurf."

"McKay?" Sheppard didn't lower the P90 and looked between the identical McKays with confusion.

"Yes, it's me. I'm from the future! And, Ronon," Sneakers turned to the Satedan and snarled with relish, "if you even think about shoving me into the bog again, so help me, I'll dye your bathwater blue and let you see how living a week as a Smurf feels!"

Sheppard's eyebrows rose even more as Ronon's jaw dropped. Ronon recovered first. "I believe you," he grunted and turned to the others. "It's McKay." He holstered his gun with a twirl.

"What do you mean 'it's McKay?'" John growled, and the gun dropped a little more.

"I was gonna show him a Satedan trick to take his mind off his troubles." Ronon's gaze measured Rodney's aggressive stance and his smile didn't reach his eyes. "You're wearing Sheppard's boots."

John lowered the P90. "You were going to let off steam and shove him into the_ bog?"_ John blinked at Ronon, who shrugged with a small smile which Sheppard accepted with a pained look.

"Never mind _that_." Sneakers picked up the dropped shaft and motioned at the other identical one. "I'm here to make sure you don't step through the gate with that ceremonial staff! It's Wraith-engineered to make the Atlantis gate malfunction and destroy us. You've got to believe me. The Wraith are here and that-that staff is a Wraith shaft — at least," he turned to look at Sheppard, "that's what you called it. You sent me back to destroy them. All five — well, now there's six of them, including mine." He looked at the staff in his hands. "If we don't destroy them, the Wraith could potentially use them as time machines, like I did — if they ever worked out a power source."

"McKay?" Sheppard's all-purpose question was directed at _his_ McKay, who stepped forward and observed himself with a bit of horror.

"The blue paint doesn't come off?"

•

The paradox man talked a blue streak as the team headed back into the swamp toward the monastery. By the time they entered the compound, his team was up to speed. Apparently, so were the old monks. Blue-faced Monks in blue robes scattered in fear to every side when they recognized the extra Rodney. They quickly disappeared into their wooden houses and cleared the avenue.

Once again on approach to the round structure, Rodney was overwhelmed with the sensation of walking into a traditional white wedding cake. Unopposed, they passed under the circular porch into the outer hall with its lofty windows overhead lighting up the round room. The sealed inner chamber rose like a column in the center of the room, taller than the surrounding hall, and thrust through the ceiling beams to rise above the roof.

The hall was a mass of running blue robes as blue-faced monks gathered their possessions and fled. But the head monk stood his ground and stretched his emaciated arms out to block their way to the sacred chamber, center stage. "No! Wait! You cannot pass! Please, go home. Leave! You promised!" In seconds, the hall was empty of support and the monk's eyes darted around for escape.

"There is a … _wrongness _… here," Teyla announced as she looked the old man over with contempt. He looked sick and undernourished, barely able to totter around on his own. His bright blue robe hung on his skinny frame with excessive volume as if he'd dropped half his weight.

His eyes widened as he focused on Teyla inside his sanctum. "No women are allowed! Please, go home! Leave before…" he trailed off suddenly, realizing he had said too much and backed away with sudden fear. Ronon snagged him before he could follow his blue-painted followers out the door.

"Before what?" Ronon rumbled.

"Please, you don't know what you're doing!" his reedy voice begged. "Go home. You have to leave. You have to leave now."

"Before what?" Sheppard prompted. "Before the Wraith come back?"

The old man's mouth dropped. "Th-th-there's some mistake here. There are no Wraith here!"

"No mistake!" Ronon shook the old man. "We know you work for them."

The head monk shook his head and tears leaked from his eyes. "Please… You must leave! The Wraith took my youth! He holds it forfeit for my cooperation!"

"The Wraith will not honor their bargain." Teyla's eyes narrowed and her lips thinned as she towered over the stooped figure.

"You don't understand. All our youth are forfeit. Everyone here has been drained of vitality! Please, you must leave before—" The monk wrung his hands and pleaded with his eyes. "The Wraith will drain us all should you remain! You will be directly responsible for all our deaths!" His lined face sagged with very little hope as he repeated the lie. "We did our part. Leave and the Wraith will return our youth."

"The Wraith will return and take what it left!" Teyla pronounced. "I will not stand in its way when it comes for you."

Ronon growled and shoved the man away from him. "Run, Collaborator. I wouldn't deprive the Wraith its pleasure or you the terror."

The frail old man scurried away with a frightened glance backward and disappeared. With his retreat, the empty chamber grew oppressively silent and Sheppard cleared his throat.

"Rodney?" The colonel motioned to the inner chamber door and the team gathered around a massive planked door which must have weighed a ton and had been built for a castle gatehouse. Two chains hooked from the top of the door and fed upward into two wooden wheels installed on the roof beams overhead. From there the chains returned into the wall of the center chamber.

Rodney pointed to the large lever next to the door. "That's the door knob."

Ronon pulled the lever to the side and the solid wood panel lifted with the ominous clatter of a chain until the door cleared the opening and stopped, dangling overhead.

Ronon and Sheppard swept into the inner chamber with guns ready. "Clear!"

His double approached with a scanner. "Hmm, unusual stone."

Teyla nodded. "There is something that feels odd, almost claustrophobic in this place."

"I've been saying that for days," Rodney muttered as the three followed the others into the tall circular room. Light flooded into the well from high above and illuminated the pedestals and altars that supported the ancient ruined equipment. The working scanner that had tested Rodney's gene rested on the center pedestal while the four remaining Wraith shafts were arranged like torches on an altar at the far wall. Rodney picked up the scanner and it lit up with a familiar date display that plummeted his heart. "Oh, no!" He held up the scanner and looked around at his team. "This is from Gilligan's World! This is the scanner we used to test the time machine! Sockered McKay was carrying this!"

"Sockered?" Sheppard's eyebrows rose.

"Long story," he absently responded as his eyes leapt to the four shafts arranged on the altar like torches and his heart sank in dread. "Four shafts…" and when his eyes found the familiar scratch, he pounced on it. "Carson did this when his tool slipped! This was Bunnies McKay's!" His finger shook as he pointed at the long scratch. The shafts represented his repeated failures.

"Bunnies?"

"Another long story," Rodney dismissed the irrelevant as his eyes zeroed in on the broken ancient doodads. "Janus' lab! Flip Flop McKay took these back so we'd have duplicates! I mean, all of this is from us! Everything but the original Wraith shaft!"

Teyla whirled and looked up in alarm. "Wraith!"

The heavy door crashed down with the accompanying sound of clanking chains. The sound of the seal shook the tower as it thudded closed, trapping them inside with only the light above tunneling down. A shadow blocked the light momentarily as Sheppard and his team fired up at the fleeting figure. The P90's filled the small chamber with a deafening roar. In the midst of the confusion, a ball hit the floor and bounced once before it rolled to a stop, steaming.

Ronon spared a glance at the smoking ball. "Stun grenade!" he shouted before the grenade detonated and a blue wave rippled off it.

Rodney collapsed without any control over his body and fell in a heap with a death grip on his Wraith shaft. It was Atlantis' last hope of survival.

•

Sometime later he stirred and felt the all too familiar tingles and prickles that accompanied waking up from a stunner beam. He heard his groan mirrored by another equally uncomfortable one and met his double's blue eyes as they picked themselves up off the stone floor. Rodney still gripped the Wraith shaft in his hand. They were still in the inner chamber and his team still littered the floor, but they weren't stirring like the scientists. With dread in their eyes, the two Rodney's crawled over to check pulses. Both dragged their Wraith shafts with them.

"Sheppard, wake up!" Rodney shook John's shoulder, but he didn't move.

"Teyla and Ronon are breathing," his double announced. "They took our weapons," he added unnecessarily. Rodney could see their weapons were gone.

"I'm always the last to wake up," Rodney objected to himself. "Why am I — are we — not unconscious?"

His double gulped at the same time Rodney did. It could only mean his team had been stunned again because someone wanted to interrogate him. They probably did it when they'd taken their weapons.

"Oh no," the two moaned at the same time as the wooden door started to rise with the clanking of a chain. Half open, two old blue monks entered with stunners and motioned for the McKays to leave. They followed them under the door and the door cranked closed again with a thud. At their feet the stone floor gaped open with a capstone slab angled half off a recessed tomb.

Rodney pointed to the crypt with a shaking finger. "The Wraith! It was hibernating there all the time!" His double mirrored his sick expression as they clutched their Wraith shafts like clubs and looked around the empty hall for the Wraith. Unconcerned, the blue monks silently retreated, leaving the two alone.

"Uh oh, that's not good," his double murmured after their disappearing robes.

A soft thud greeted their ears behind them and the Rodneys whirled to see a Wraith male in a long black coat rise from his landing to hiss, "We meet again, Drs. McKay."

The McKays backed up and they raised the shafts defensively. Backing, he almost stumbled into the tomb. The Rodneys split with the crypt between them and kept backing away as the Wraith lithely leapt over it in pursuit. It was a tall, white-haired male with excessively sharp teeth. Rodney reminded himself that this was also a very clever Wraith who had invented the Wraith shaft in his hands.

"No, I don't think we've ever met before," his double's chin rose.

Rodney frowned and wondered what the idiot thought he was doing attracting the Wraith's attention as he kept an eye on the main doors.

"You are very resourceful with my … rods. I have enjoyed playing our games and my Rods have fed me well." He chuckled at his own humor as the McKay's cowered together, still intent on backing out the door. One effortless leap and the Wraith landed between them and the main door. "But I see I will have to do this myself, after all." He lifted a black pod from a rope tied around his neck and sneered at them. "One of you will be thrown, half-drained, back to Atlantis with my Wraith rod glued in your hand! Now who is the real McKay and who is the paradox?" He uncapped the pod with a clawed finger and a black tarry smell oozed from the open tip. "I will know how you changed my rod to travel through time!"

"You know, I'm _really _tired of being used as a personal finger painting project! And now you want to tar and feather me, too!" Rodney snarled back to the Wraith. Then he glanced over at the other McKay and whispered, "Un-ray way-ay when he gets the aft-shay." Rodney's eyes darted meaningfully to the Wraith shaft in his hands as he hefted it. He looked over to see his double frown at him. "I ut-pay C-4 in the aft-shay!" And the original McKay's eyes widened in understanding.

"Of all the _stupid—"_ The other McKay didn't have time to finish his sentence because Rodney really didn't want to hear it.

"Go — before I change my mind!" Rodney shoved McKay backward out of the way and aimed a passing blow at the Wraith as he rushed the main doors. His swing sent the goop pod flying across the room. Rodney didn't bother to track the ending of the nasty glue. He was more concerned about the other Rodney who darted across the room and slid into the crypt. As his double dropped into the safety of the tomb, the Wraith yanked Rodney to a stop just short of the doors, and Rodney swung the Wraith shaft one last time. He knew he was no match for the faster reflexes of the Wraith, who caught the shaft in mid-swing. Its hand closed around the shaft and it sneered at him.

McKay watched the green hand grip the shaft and he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't think of anything cute to say. Sheppard would have said something like "Let's see how you like getting shafted." No, all he could think about was how desperate he must have been to be this stupid. He'd failed four other times trying to save Atlantis against this one Wraith, not an exemplary record by any means, and McKay wasn't use to failure.

But this time he would win. His eyes opened and he whispered to the Wraith, "I'm not such a harmless Smurf after all."

He imagined the bio sensors inside the shaft reading the Wraith DNA and sending the signal to close the circuit. The charge sparked and traveled to the C-4 packed into the shaft and detonated Rodney's pipe bomb, his insurance that the Wraith responsible for sending his Atlantis into a time paradox never recovered, period.

•

All the way back through the swamp to the gate, the remaining Rodney McKay was pensively silent as he unconsciously scratched his face. He'd crawled out of the crypt after the rain of debris had settled and stared in astonishment at the mound of stones that represented almost half the structure. The main room now opened up to the compound and the sky above. The crypt capstone had protected him from the falling roof which sagged in above him. Behind him the roof beams had pulled the inner chamber door away from its tracks by its chains which were still attached to the door. The crack in the doorway had been wide enough to wedge through — without getting trapped inside again — to check on his friends. Ronon was the only one that woke up right away. The inner chamber had survived the explosion intact.

His future self hadn't been so lucky. His remains, or what they could scrape off the cave-in, lay buried under a few meters of rubble. It was just as well his remains stayed there. He wouldn't have known how to break it to Jeannie.

He had been deeply curious about the Wraith rods, but the future boy had been adamant that they all be destroyed. He'd sacrificed his life to make sure that that happened, a troubling concept to Rodney, who didn't want to think one Wraith was worth so much. So he turned over the facts in his brain on the way back to the gate in an effort to understand himself and came up short. It was unsettling that he'd constructed a suicide weapon as a last resort.

Before they left the compound, Sheppard had broken and burned the rest of the rods. Then he brought down the rest of the monastery on top of the inner chamber with another C-4 detonation and the rubble pile burned with a vengeance. The blue monks had completely disappeared after the first explosion and the team found their weapons abandoned in one of the wooden buildings. The temple still spewed a thick black column of smoke behind them, a fitting funeral pyre for a very desperate man.

They trudged in heavy silence back toward the gate, all of them lost in speculation about their unrealized future. When the team finally broke out of the cover of the swamp canopy and Rodney spotted the familiar ring rising above the trees at the top of the hill on its raised platform, his heavy sigh broke the somber air.

"Amen to that," Sheppard muttered as he walked in step beside him.

"I just don't get it," Rodney finally admitted with his pensive mood broken. "How could I do something like that — build a suicide bomb? I mean, it was only one Wraith and it's not like we've been in worse situations." He scratched his cheek and the blue paint collected under his fingernails. "I could have used another me in Atlantis. Why would I do something so stupid?"

Sheppard shook his head, "I don't know, Rodney. Maybe you didn't intend to use it like … a suicide bomb," he offered hesitantly.

"Yeah," Ronon rumbled from ahead. "Properly deployed, a weapon like that requires patience," Dex glanced over his shoulder and added, "subtlety … cunning … maneuvering …"

"Right, I get it!" McKay snapped impatiently and glared at his back. "I'm not exactly patient or subtle — see exhibit A, for alternate me!" He jerked a thumb back toward the smoke that was still visible on the horizon. "I'm also not that noble or stupid! See exhibit B, for brains!" He pointed at his head.

Teyla spoke up quietly from behind them. "The alternate McKay was truly desperate to right our timeline. His earlier attempts to contact us and warn us about the … time lock device … had all failed. Perhaps righting the timeline meant your copies could not survive because the true path is one that one must walk alone."

"But just think of all the things I could accomplish with a few more me's around with my brains!" Rodney scratched the other cheek. "For starters, I've been thinking about what the other McKay told me about the event. All I'd need is a few spare ZedPMs and I think I could build a real copy gate." McKay beamed at their scowling faces as they gathered around the DHD.

"Rodney!" Sheppard growled.

Dex towered closer. "Future Sheppard ordered you to destroy them!"

"You would destroy a world for gain?" Teyla snapped and started dialing with punctuated stabs.

"No, of course not! It'd be in space, between galaxies, with less gravity to deal with and plenty of room for a little spacetime warping." Rodney glanced between Teyla's thinned lips and Ronon's crossed arms and plunged on, "I could copy all the ZedPMs, puddle jumpers, and drones we needed, escape the anomaly, and simply cheat time by returning with a fleet before I left! End of anomaly!" His blue eyes gazed dreamily into the distance. "It's pure brilliance. There's only one thing holding me back."

John took his GDO out of his pocket and snorted. "Just one?" The stargate roared open as the wormhole formed and settled into a stable pool.

"Well, we only have one ZedPM and I'd need at least two."

"Well, there's only _one_ Rodney," John sent his IDC through to Atlantis and eyed Rodney. "And … I'd like to keep it that way." Sheppard tapped his earpiece and announced, "This is Sheppard," the colonel's voice echoed in his ears. "Nobody shoot. We're coming through with a friendly … Smurf." He deactivated the comm and smiled smugly at Rodney.

McKay felt his cheeks burning under the blue paint and shot Sheppard a horrified glare as he realized everyone in Atlantis would be alerted to his painted condition. Even now, they would be gathering in the control tower to witness the spectacle. As he turned toward the event horizon, he wondered, "Why didn't I say _Braveheart?"_

_The End_


End file.
